


chance

by xoxo18



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: CEO and child genius Wendy, F/F, Model Irene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 62,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28068768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoxo18/pseuds/xoxo18
Summary: Before becoming this multi-millionaire CEO and philanthropist, Wendy was an awkward and unlucky kid, and she thinks she never really outgrew these traits.Especially when she faces world-renowned supermodel Irene Bae. They’re shaking each other’s hand in a contract-signing event and all she can think of is:fuck.
Relationships: Bae Joohyun | Irene/Son Seungwan | Wendy
Comments: 192
Kudos: 778





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been looking for an au that revolves around genuis! wendy. i haven't seen one and it's occupied my mind for days. so i wrote this and i hope you'll like it!

_United_ is releasing their newest line of cosmetics _—_ considerably their best and most remarkable one yet.

The multinational consumer goods company recorded $190.2 million in sales just last year, led several medical breakthroughs, helped more than 90,000 families, and yet this product release is foreseen to be their most massive success.

Wendy worked tirelessly in the lab, formulating environment-friendly, effective, and affordable commodities _—_ ones that will benefit not only a small, higher-ranking population, but the vast majority of the world. Not to mention, all the materials they use are natural and safely-sourced.

The discipline and detail she has to put into her work serve as evidences of her talent and growth, and that the journey is indeed, greater than the outcome. All that they've done serve to make this achievement memorable.

So, she should be celebrating _—_ ecstatic even. As of the moment, several media agencies are causing traffic on their phone lines, asking, _begging_ for the details.

But as her subordinates leave the conference room, Wendy sinks in her office chair.

“Seul, please don’t do this.” She pleads, arms crossed over her chest, ruffling her beige versace suit.

The sun is bright and reflected through the glass walls of the high-ceiling room. She’s situated on the edge of a long wooden table, where the meeting about brand endorsements just ended. The morning started out typical, where she was once again the first to arrive with sparse amount of sleep. As the sky turns bright blue, she had already approved proposals, counterchecked financial statements, and scheduled her needed _(more of wanted)_ visitations in the lab.

Despite this daily routine, Wendy wouldn't consider it as boredom or tedium. In fact, there was something so therapeutic about the constant, customary rhythm of her line of work. It's one she's practiced and developed over the years.

But now, she sees that comfortable security slowly dismantling, as Seulgi’s dismissive expression faces her. The older woman _—_ clad in a black, strapless ferregamo jumper _—_ clicks her tongue in sheer response, like she doesn’t care when her best-friend-slash-CEO is clearly struggling.

Wendy pouts at this thought and Seulgi finally speaks, “ _Seungwan,_ you know that doesn’t work on me.”

Wendy does, it’s true. When Seulgi's concentration is set on what she wants, she never _ever_ gets swayed by anything else. Especially since she’s in charge of the company’s marketing, she has to precisely understand and decide on what the best is for their realm of interest and success. Seulgi has to determine, in a singular meeting or a quick conversation, what will work for United's reputable image and what won’t.  
  
They’ve been friends for ten years, and Wendy knows Seulgi like the back of her hand.

But she tries anyway.

“Seul..” She’s whining now, hopes that her friend spares her mercy. “Just pick a new model! Don’t you have tons of connections? I mean _—_ “

“Wan,” the other girl cuts her off. Wendy recognizes the nickname, at least she knows Seulgi isn’t mad at her child-like antics. “You’re usually a logical and rational person.” She tells Wendy, who was now inching closer and closer to the bottom of her seat, practically engulfed by the office chair; her blazer and eyebrows both creased.

“You need to make me understand why you’re so against this idea, then I’ll think about reconsidering.” Despite the finality on Seulgi’s face, Wendy knows she’ll listen. They’ve known each other for so long and they’ve learned to value and respect the other’s opinion, regardless if it's about business or personal matters.

Wendy knows _this_ much and _really,_ she prides at her objectivity since it’s probably her best personality trait (it’s her _only_ personality trait.) She’s always been level-headed and her judgment is supported by scientific and factual evidence (in case it wasn't clear, she’s an engineer too.)

_But why was she acting like a kicked puppy? Like a six-year-old child who lost in a game of rock paper scissors or a high schooler whose research hypothesis was false and they had to do the paper again and their professor was an assh—_

“Do you have any meetings after this?” Wendy finally cuts her train of thought.

Seulgi shrugs at the question, then she clicks on her heels and taps the gold-plated timepiece on her wrist. “It’s a few minutes ‘til lunch, so we’ll have to meet up with Sooyoung soon.”

“Okay,” Wendy sighs. There was really no other way out of this. “I’ll make this quick,” because she knows how impatient Sooyoung can get.

She breathes out, shifting on her seat. _She can do this_.

Seulgi nods and pulls on the nearest chair. Wendy sighs again.

.

**_5 years ago. The Asgard Pub, Cambridge._ **

The bell chimes as Wendy swings the door open. She doesn’t think, she’s too exhausted. All she can register is the unusual silence, and she's aware that she should be in someplace else.  
  
She flops to a vacant bar stool and orders her signature drink.

“Hey there,” Jennifer, the local bartender, greets her. Wendy manages to flash a small, delicate smile, as she clenches her palms on her jeans. She’s drained.

Jennifer silently makes the drink, doesn’t comment on the sour disposition or the fact that Wendy’s alone in this pub when it was graduation day.

It was a rather big deal around here, you know, the notion of graduating and finally leaving it all behind. Especially since the two most prestigious colleges in the world are situated around the area: Harvard and MIT.

The drinks is placed on the table and Wendy downs it in one go, hoping the profound effect of liquor collapses the darkness within her.

“Wow," the bartender inhales briefly, "You are on fire tonight.” She chuckles.  
  
Wendy tries to laugh but it comes out as a grimace instead. The liquor burns in her throat and heat pools at the pit of her stomach, she’s just _so tired._

“Can you get me one more?” Wendy really shouldn’t be doing this, she knows the chemistry behind alcohol and how the acetaldehyde becomes acetic acid and the liver can only process so much _—_ “Harder this time.”

She sighs inwardly and the bartender nods.

Wendy drinks and drinks, one after the other, excessively and unmeasured. She knows what she wants to accomplish, to drown out her dad’s eyes behind round glasses, her mom’s fleeting touches, and lots and lots of red. She’s shattered, but she doesn’t want to think so she keeps drinking.

The time goes unnoticed, but Wendy guesses she’s on her sixth? _Seventh?_

She’s not really sure, but her mind can still comprehend a woman seated two chairs away from her. _Damn,_ Wendy thinks to herself, she is gorgeous. Sharp nose, red lips, and doe-like eyes _—_ Wendy’s never seen the woman before on campus, and she’s certain that a face like that will be talked about for a long, _long_ time. It can be in passing, conversations drifting in their hallways or over cheap cafeteria lunches.

Not that Wendy cares though, she’s never really been a fan of gossip and she’s never pursued anyone, for that matter. She had a small, intact circle of friends _—_ Seulgi, Sooyoung, and a few other Asian kids she's thankful to have met.

With a double degree on her plate and nearly perfect grades, Wendy had absolutely no time for romance. She had already found happiness in academics and excellence, but not to be mistaken, she finds pleasure in _that_ area, too. It's fun, easy, and it's an effective way to channel one's energy. 

Perhaps, the fact that she frequents this bar is proof in itself. It was common among students, they _needed_ the sex; especially when you have to sit down four hours a day to answer a problem set for years on end. And they're expected to be geniuses and masters but after exam season where all-time-high stress slowly dissipates, everyone wants a reliever — a reward other than the red pigment of numbers or letters on a sheet of paper.

Wendy avoids the possible complexities or the potential of romantic relationships. But still, she admits, she gets attracted.

And right now, Wendy is very much so.

The woman carries an aura of confidence that isn’t misplaced, she outlines real self-esteem, one that seems as if she is in control of her life _._ Wendy thinks it's similar to whenever she's the first to turn in her O-Chem homework and she knows she’s nailed every single question, or when she submitted her paper on CRISPR genetic scissoring and it’s awarded best thesis _—_ on those occasions, Wendy’s certain.

But the woman in front of her, it’s like she was born to be assertive and unfazed. But not in a "I'm better than you," kind of way, but in an acknowledgement that she's whole enough just by herself.

 _Hmm,_ Wendy thinks maybe it was the outfit. The woman was wearing a black sequined dress with a crystal drop choker, and her back was on full view. _Fuck,_ Wendy's brain kinda short-circuits _(yes, this is actually scientifically possible because of excitatory neurons.)_ Then she hears the woman laugh, dainty fingers cover her mouth and it's only now that Wendy notices a man beside her.

Black tie with a white long-sleeved polo tucked in grey dress pants. He has a chiseled jaw, prominent features, and of course, he’s hitting on the said gorgeous woman. A combination that’s just so _predictable._

Wendy wills herself not to roll her eyes, then she catches a rather small voice _(huh. even her voice is pretty_.) and the man reaches out his hand. Wendy didn’t hear what he said nor could she care any less. She cannot invest her time or ponder on any sort of attachment to strangers.

She knows how the Math works. The probability theory, concerned with the analysis of random phenomena, predicts the likelihood of an event being one of many several possible outcomes.

Essentially, it implies the chances of your name getting chosen in index card recitations, or if you’ll contract a genetic disease in your lifetime, or if you’ll ever meet this beautiful woman you encountered in a bar ever again.

The probability is just too slim. There are indefinite outcomes but she’s certain that in this universe, she walks back to the dormitory, sleeps, and wakes up with the worst migraine. She sighs inwardly, opting to drink from her glass instead.

A few more moments pass, then she notices it was late in the evening. And maybe it’s the alcohol, but from the corner of her eyes she sees the woman start to squirm uncomfortably.

_What the hell is he saying?_

Wendy, raised to be curious kid, chooses to inch closer, making sure her moves are slow and unnoticed. She’s now a seat away and she hears the man talking on and on about getting his PhD degree, that he’s so accomplished _yada yada yada_. Again, _predictable._

This is also where the line of 'confidence' is drawn. Taking classes in both MIT and Harvard has taught Wendy that there are people who think they’re smarter and more successful than whoever it is they’re talking to. They turn every single conversation as an opportunity to brag about their achievements and their inherent sense of belief in theirselves stems from the supposed superiority over others.  
  
She can’t help but chuckle at this woman’s misery, being picked up by one of _them._

She knows she shouldn’t bother. The probability speaks for itself, butting in their conversation will affect the previous set of outcomes and she’s not sure if she likes that.

“Did you know you have stars in your eyes?” The man says and Wendy cringes _._

Her friends have told her she can be unintentionally greasy but never like _that._ That’s just really _weird_ and again, predictable.

He sounded sincere though, and he looked positively captivated; but she can't say the same for the other woman. Her expression was hidden by the cup in her hand but Wendy thinks she saw her wince too, at that poor excuse of a compliment.  
  
So, Wendy decides.

She’s had a bad enough day and she decides: _fuck the probability._

“She can’t possibly have stars in her eyes.” She says out loud, just enough for the pair on her left to hear.

The man turns to her with a mixed expression of dumbfounded, offended and annoyed; he’s basically saying _what the fuck?_

But the pretty woman’s eyebrows rise up at this remark, she looks _entertained?_ Wendy thinks it’s the alcohol but she swears she sees a smirk on the way to the woman’s face, so she decides to continue.

“Stars are formed as a result of a balance of forces and they distribute heavy elements, like carbon, nitrogen, and oxygen..” Really, Wendy should stop but the woman looks so amused, like she wants to hear more.

“If she did have stars in her eyes, you wouldn’t be able go near her because the pull of gravity will be too strong and you would die an untimely death.” Wendy finishes, casually sipping from her glass as she now looks at the pair.

The man stares at her disbelievingly, much less confident than before. Astronomy was never really one of Wendy's strongest points but what she said was pretty accurate.  
  
Still, she prays to god _(or gods)_ that this man isn’t an astronomy or earth science major _(from that lousy pick-up line she’s quite certain, but you can never be so sure ‘cause probability’s sort of messed up),_ but she just had to get it out there.

She finds it worth it though, especially as the woman _(oh-so-prettily)_ gazes at her from head to toe, with curious eyes and no attempt to hide her smile.

“I’ve mentioned I study literature, right?” His voice drips with sarcasm as he faces the woman beside him again, but asserts that Wendy hears him too.

 _He’s on literature dissertation level and that’s the best pick-up line he could think of?_ Wendy scoffs at this thought, but she won't say it out loud. She’s not here to pick a fight, anyway, but that doesn't mean she doesn't find it funny.

She has to bite the inside of her cheek to force the laugh away.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” He asks her, clearly upset that their little bubble had been burst so abruptly. The woman looks up at him, shaking her head.

“Thank you, but I’m good.” She answers politely.

 _Well,_ it seems like the Math is favoring Wendy.

The man picks up his coat defeatedly, shooting Wendy a glare before he leaves. The woman moves closer to her, they’re seated side by side now.

“So,” she pauses and Wendy faces her. God, she’s _stunning._ “You don’t think I have stars in my eyes?”

She chuckles a bit, a chance to let out the suppressed laughter. She should be nervous, but the alcohol in her system is doing wonders so Wendy answers the woman with nonchalance, “No one does. Unless you’re a supernatural being.” She ends with a shrug.

The other woman laughs, like full-on, clenching-to-her-belly laugh. Wendy can’t help but be mesmerized.

“You’re funny, I like you.”

“Uh, thanks?”

The woman in front of her motions Jennifer for another beer.

“I’m Irene.” The older girl smiles.

“Oh," mild amazement is now evident from Wendy's expression, "Like Marie Curie’s daughter.”   
  
“I’m sorry, what?” Irene's brows cock again. She’s still smiling but is very _very_ puzzled. It’s the first time she’s heard that.

“Irene Curie, daughter of Pierre and Marie Curie?" Wendy looks at her briefly, then shrugs as she turns her body forward. "She won a Nobel Prize in Chemistry for radioactive elements, just like her parents.” She explains this as if it’s common knowledge, like _dogs are animals_ or _roses are red._

“Oh, people usually say ‘like the goddess of peace’ but wow,” Irene pauses, “That’s where your mind goes?” She finishes with a chuckle.

She finds the younger girl in front of her fascinating, not in a laughable way, but in a wildly endearing way. Like the girl was being honest and genuine, Irene didn’t have a lot of people like that in her life. She didn’t have a lot of people in general.

“Right, sorry.” Wendy answers sheepishly, her cheeks turning red mostly because of the liquor but also because of the embarrassment.

“Chemistry’s one of my fields of interests so..”

Wendy doesn’t say anything else, it’s sort of self-explanatory especially when she treated that piece of information like it’s general trivia. Irene hums in acknowledgement.

“I’m Seungwan by the way, but I go by Wendy.” Irene smiles at this, it’s not her fault _—_ the opportunity presented itself.

“Oh, like in Peter Pan.”

There's a quiet pause before Wendy says, “That’s where your mind goes?”, and the pair laughs at their new inside joke.

From afar, they looked odd. The older woman was dressed so differently from Wendy, her outfit practically screaming _expensive_ while the blonde girl was sporting black jeans and a loose maroon sweater with words _“Massachusetts Institute of Technology”_ over it.

Still, they looked comfortable enough, the quiet hum of retro music blankets over them, along with the sound of mixing drinks and the orange light slanting through.

“No, but really,” Irene speaks, the lilt of her voice melodious to Wendy. “Wendy is an interesting character, isn’t she? She went to Neverland because she said she dreaded growing up, but her actions said otherwise. Still, at the end, it all worked for her.”

Wendy looks at the woman with ardent curiosity _(Irene had a knack for making her curious)_ and she asks, “Did you see this yesterday or something?”

“No. When I was eight.” Wendy tried, she really did, but her laugh oscillates and her shoulders shake. Irene grins.

She empties her beer bottle and drinks from the next. The bartender brings out a refill for Wendy.

“So, what do you major in?” Irene asks. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s astronomy or something along those lines.”

Wendy giggles at this remark and shakes her head just slightly, afraid she’ll get even dizzier than she already is. “I’m a double major, Chemical Engineering and Finance.”

Again, Wendy says it so nonchalantly that a lopsided grin forms on Irene's face. She’s only been in Boston for a week but she’s sure that the girl in front of her is one of the few, _very few,_ who act like their course and university aren’t that big of a deal _(_ when they actually are _)._

She hums in acknowledgement, taking another swig. _Different._

“I’m sorry, I’m not really much of a talker.” Wendy admits, because this is a fact she’s come to accept. Especially since most of the stuff that comes out of her mouth are—as you’ve probably noticed _—_ _weird._ Nerdy. Unnatural. That’s why she has friends like Seulgi and Sooyoung who do most of the socializing for her, and she just laughs when she finds a joke funny and answers whenever she’s talked to.

She wonders how the two are doing, they’re probably with their parents at hotels they booked. Seulgi kept calling her earlier, but her friend knew she needed to be alone.

Apparently, alone also meant _this_.

“Don’t worry," Irene breaks her train of thought, "I’m quite the chatter when there’s alcohol involved.” Wendy sips from her glass, grateful for the predicament.

“Is it safe to assume you want to know what I do?” She asks with a hint of hesitance so Wendy nods rather vigorously _(no migraine please)_ because she is, again, curious; and also because she wants Irene to know that her stories are welcomed.

“I’m a model.” Wendy hums, the woman _definitely_ looked like one. “Magazines and fashion shows here and there.”

She nods at her own statement and proceeds for another drink at her beer, the liquid passing down her throat.

Wendy swallows, “Is modeling something you’ve always wanted to do?”  
  
She’s always wondered if people in other fields were like her, too. Ever since she could remember, she's been in the cycle of books and studying and she's performed advanced titration experiments at nine years old. Eventually, she became the youngest Korean to ever win a gold medal at two different academic olympiads _—_ chemistry and mathematics.

If you simmer it down, essentially, her childhood was a blueprint to the stage that her life stands on now. There was just no other path and she wonders if it’s the same for others, or if that path includes leading her to this stool, facing this woman.

“I was willing to do anything to give my mom a better life.” Irene looks down at the liquid in her bottle, contemplatively stirring it in her hands. Wendy stays silent, not expecting such a raw answer.

“My mom had me study engineering, too.” She faces the younger girl and found brown orbs staring at hers, and there was no hint of pity. Joohyun was thankful, she didn't feel ashamed. And she thinks maybe Wendy wasn’t much of a talker because she was meant to be a good listener.

“Not in MIT, though.” Irene chuckles, “Just in a normal university back in Daegu, where my younger sister would probably end up doing the same.” For a second, she has this remorseful look but Wendy blinks and it’s gone.

The woman's lips turn upward and she flashes an expression of contentment.

“Now, I travel across the world and get paid to wear expensive clothes, some I even get for free.” Irene beams, “I haven’t done anything for major fashion magazines or billboards.. But I know, someday I will.”

Wendy can’t help but stare, she didn’t think it was humanely possible but the woman in front her had gotten ever more attractive. She realizes, in an agonizingly slow moment, she wanted that too.

“I know you will.” Wendy says, unaware that she says this out loud. As she looks at the woman in front of her, how her eyes light up with a passion that Wendy’s lost for so long, it starts to feel suffocating _._ That if she digs deep into the untouched abyss of herself, she will know that she’s lost, and that there’s an inconsolable ache on her chest that screams with regret.

She thought of the path again, and was it really what she wanted? Will it make her happy, or at the least bit, satisfied? Or has she wasted five years in university and will she waste a few more years for her master’s degree? She thinks of all these questions and she feels calloused hands softly brushing her hair and words strung along _“I’m proud of you”_ and she wonders about all the “I love yous” she let slide, the phone calls she didn’t pick up. And Seungwan is so mad at herself and she needs to _stop._ _thinking._

A hand that reaches out to her knee brings her back, “Hey, are you okay?”

Irene moves closer and Wendy doesn’t think. She doesn’t want to.  
  
She looks up, leaning in slowly and their breaths mingle. There it was, a silent confession, as Irene licks her lips and darts her focus on Wendy's.

She wants this too. _Good._

Wendy captures the woman’s plump, soft, and _red_ and kisses her, rough and borderline desperate. The model reaches for the back of her head and Wendy takes the kiss further, the anger and pain seeping through as she licks into Irene’s mouth and the older woman growls low.

This is different from all of Wendy's past experiences. The woman in front of her is hotter, sexier, and definitely _hungrier._ So she pushes the guilt away and kisses with a new-found fervor, and Irene's mouth answers with matched intensity.  
  
Her eyes still closed, the model pulls away. Then hot breath whispers, “Let’s get out of here.”

They walk to Irene’s hotel as fast as they can, all lustful intentions in mind and as soon as they hit the elevator, they press against each other. Irene takes control and Wendy's whole body tingled, her knees were giving in.  
  
She shudders as Irene’s hands do wonders. In this dimly-lit hotel room, Wendy’s etched with only one memory, _“Shout Joohyun when you come for me.”_

And she does. Four times. Irene does too, thrice. Wendy claws on the woman’s back, licking into her wetness with reverence. She bites on milky skin and kisses with fire.

If Joohyun notices the brokenness behind the rush of sensations crawling across Wendy’s lips, she doesn’t comment. They kiss, touch, and undress. 

Irene moans aloud, then wakes up to an empty bed.

.

“You’re joking.” Seulgi deadpans.

Wendy really wished she was. _Fuck her life and fuck probability._

“You literally banged then left our newest brand endorser. What the he _—_ “ Seulgi’s incoming speech is cut by her phone's ring tone.

Wendy looks at the source of the sound to thank her supposed savior, but she recoils and takes that statement back. It dawns on her just how unlucky she truly is, “ _Great,_ it’s Sooyoung.”

Seulgi accepts the call, “I know we’re late, I’m sorry.” She motions for Wendy to stand up, an angry Sooyoung is amusing, but not when you’re at the receiving end.

They walk quickly to the elevators, bottega veneta heels clicking on the floor, “Don’t worry, Joy-ah. I’ve got a _great_ story for you.”

And she groans. Really, she’s just so miserable.

.

Against the loud honking of cars below them, Joy’s laugh is resounding. Wendy feels even North Korea hears it too.

The trio are having lunch at her office, since according to the pair:

  1. It’s at the top floor of United, therefore they get to see an amazing view of the Han River and almost all of Seoul every single day;
  2. She has a wide array of gaming sets: play station, xbox, nintendo switch, coupled with a huge wall-mounted television; and
  3. Her walls are soundproof, so they can talk and laugh about Wendy’s agony as loud as they want to.



“You can’t be serious!” Sooyoung says as her laugh and Seulgi’s are bouncing off the room’s walls. Her friend, who was initially mad at what the implications of her supposedly-one-night-stand-now-brand-ambassador were for the company, was now laughing with tears in her eyes.

Joy just holds that power.

Wendy huffs, “It was that day, okay? I wasn't really in the _best_ mindset.”  
  
The two stop, gazes now turning somber. They never really talked about it, Seungwan never wanted to. The only person she ever confided about that harsh, overwhelming loss, ended up leaving her too.

She took the risk of admitting these things just to _her_ , revelations about who she was and the past she never recovered from. She believed though, that with _her_ , one day the pain would magically go away. But eventually, it led to one much more crippling and disarming, and Wendy now comes with a deep understanding that she will never go on living the same after _her._

Here in her territory, on the topmost part of the building and empire they built from scratch, her two most cherished friends are looking at her and Wendy feels _seen_. They have been nothing but supportive and they’ve thought of almost all the ways to help her recuperate _(once, the two mountain-climbed during winter to light candles and pray),_ and don’t get her wrong, she’s beyond grateful.

But she knows and exists with an irrevocable truth _—_ nothing can fill up the hole carved out inside of her.

“So please, can we _please_ just change models?” She forces her mind to go back to the topic at hand, and looks at Seulgi with her best impression of the 🥺 emoji.

Seulgi shakes her head and Wendy sighs heavily.

“Unnie, you know it was a final decision the moment Seulgi-unnie presented it to the board and to you.” Joy looks at her unsmiling. Of course Wendy knew, but she still tried. You never know, the probability of Seulgi changing her mind might be at this exact moment _(nope, it was completely a rare occurrence reserved for monumental events, considering all past instances this had happened would amount to 2%.)_

“Just apologize.” Seulgi tells her firmly.  
  
She understands, she couldn’t afford to have bad blood with any of their major stakeholders, one of which would be in the form of their newest brand endorser, a worldwide-renowned supermodel whose billboard is right outside her 12th floor Gangnam apartment and whom she also happened to have sex with. _Ugh,_ Wendy groans internally.

“Stop overthinking, unnie.” Wow, what _great_ advice. “She might not even remember you.”

Wendy considers this too, but she finds this outcome even more desolating than the others. Was she so easily forgettable like that? It has, after all, been five years. And Wendy knows the woman’s reputation, not that she’s keeping track. Irene was just _Irene_ , so naturally, her life would be talked about article after article.

Some were good, they wrote about how she’s donated 100 million won to combat malnourishment and joined several campaigns against human rights violations. Others, however, which were probably a lot more in number, were about how she was once caught in a steamy make out session with actress _Kang Hanna_ in a bar, or how she walks out of a fellow model’s hotel room the next morning, wearing the same set of clothes the night before. Most of the media and the people alike know her too well for the incident to be called a “sleepover”.

Wendy never judges though, she understands the pressure and casual sex was the right way to go. It was freeing and fun, especially when it’s good _(heh. like that night.)_ But majority of Korea still thinks otherwise, considers such actions “rash” and “scandalous”. _And yet, sexual harassment, illegal gambling, and drug involvement were easily brushed off._ What a joke.

Wendy never doubted why Seulgi and the team made sure Irene would carry their brand, despite the model's seemingly 'problematic' image. Everything she touches, _sells._ It's called "The Irene Effect". Once, the model gushed on Instagram that she had read and loved this feminist book, and just a few minutes after her post, people were flocking over bookstores purchasing their own copy. The author made time to personally extend her gratitude.

But despite this fame, what's more fascinating is that the supermodel is picky. Headlines of a budding partnership with "The Bae" would always trend, but only select few would push through. One of which was with United.   
  
Wendy took pride in that, although, she would never _ever_ say it out loud.

“I still can’t believe you had sex with Bae Irene.” Seulgi says so bewilderedly and Wendy's mind just— _Ugh._ She groans again. In all honesty, she couldn’t believe it too.

“That’s your college peak, unnie. The next time people ask about how our university days were, don’t say you graduated with a 4.9 GPA or that you had so many extracurriculars.” Joy pauses, and Wendy thinks _I have never talked about myself like that._

But she sees the smirk on the younger girl's face, _dreads_ it coming. “Unnie you just have to say, ‘Oh, I fucked Bae Irene in a hotel room.’”

Wendy wants to hit her with a water bottle, _violently._ But she and Seulgi are laughing so hard that their clutching onto their stomachs.

So, Wendy goes back to her food and absentmindedly plays with it through her chopsticks.

She thinks about how _not_ to panic at the contract signing between _Korea’s #1 Consumer Brand_ and _Asia’s Face of the Year_.

All she manages is a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to leave your thoughts, and you can reach out to me on twitter too! @/siztrv


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, IOI here stands for International Olympiad on Informatics. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Sooyoung, if I don’t go home now my dog is going to die.”

“Unnie,” Joy looks at her with a scowl _(why did she call herself Joy in the first place? Was it supposed to be a figure of speech?),_ “You don’t have a dog.”

Well, to be fair, she used to. But that’s a conversation for another time.

“Then it’s my pet fish, Sooyoung-ah. You know, there’s a fishbowl in my apartment.”

“ _Unnie!_ ” Joy exasperates. “Stop it with the ramblings already. You have no pets at home and the world isn’t going to end _now_ because of an oxygen overshoot!”

Oh, that was the thing she was talking about earlier, before the thing about the pets. She needs to go home and blast Elton John on her turntable, because the world’s getting warmer day by day with rising oxygen levels and Wendy predicts it’s going to end soon. _Right._

Joy’s glare penetrates to her whole being, then the younger woman huffs from where she’s seated and resumes typing in her laptop.

Wendy smiles sheepishly, and her hand finds itself at the back of her head. “Sorry, Joy-ah.”

She apologizes because she is, really sorry, for disturbing Joy’s peace in the tech team’s head office. The younger girl is probably working on improving their latest software or their company’s GUI, all the while suffering through her incessant rambling.

Oh, has she mentioned? Wendy's also currently pacing distractedly around the room, back and forth in her black alexander wang pumps.

So really, she’s sorry.

“If you don’t leave in five minutes you’re going to be late.” Joy pauses and looks at her, “You hate being late.”

Wendy sighs. Yes, she does. Sooyoung knows this much about her, they’ve known each other for so long too. She hates when people don’t respect her time, so she makes sure to respect others’.

But what Sooyoung doesn’t know is that Wendy is here thinking and disrupting her in the office because she wishes Einstein was alive to say that time is indeed an illusion and is relative, hence she can take very _very_ long in pondering about her situation, not worrying that in reality, she is minutes away from stumbling into a moment that will change her life forever.

She’s being dramatic.

Joy stands in front of her, straightening the collar of Wendy's black, dior tailored fit suit. She wore it with matching cartier drop earrings and light make-up.

She’s set on wearing formal clothing to work every day. Through time, she’s found these outfits normal — comfortable even. Although she can’t deny the fact that she took her time picking this one out, because today meant something else, today meant—

“Unnie,” Joy says sternly, and that effectively stops her inner monologue. “Just relax, okay?”

The younger girl steps backwards and looks at Wendy from head to toe, she heaves a satisfied sigh.

“If it’s any consolation, you’ve been through worse.” Wendy manages a chuckle. It’s true. She and Seulgi were there with her, they stayed.

“Thank you, Sooyoung-ah.” If Joy notices the solemnity in Wendy’s voice, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she squeezes the older girl’s arm and shoos her away.

“Alright, I’m going now.” She says reluctantly as Sooyoung waves her goodbye.

When she shuts the door, she smiles at the memory of how they met.

.

_**8 years ago. Massachusetts Institute of Technology.** _

Wendy looks at the cafeteria clock, it’s barely even been ten minutes but she feels as if so much has happened. “Let me get this straight—”

“I’m not, though.” The youngest girl smirks.

“I didn’t ask, though.” Wendy accentuates with an eyeroll.

“Okay, let’s all relax.” Seulgi says, accompanied with weird hand motions in a futile attempt to diffuse the growing tension.

“I met Sooyoung in one of my classes, she got in the wrong one.” Seulgi’s about to say something else when Wendy butts in.

“You’re the youngest IOI winner but you got lost in campus.” She says flatly.

“Thank you for acknowledging my greatness.” The girl smiles with eyes crinkled and lips full. Wendy narrows her eyes at her.

She’s usually kind to strangers and acquaintances, most especially when they’re Korean too. From an outside perspective, they would think it’s a race or culture thing; but for Wendy, she gets the tiniest bits of home she so incredibly misses with such friends. But she will never admit this out loud.

Anyhow, this moment is the first time Seulgi introduces someone and she says: _“Sooyoung will be eating lunch with us from now on!”_ , flashing her signature bear smile.

And really, Wendy would have cried at that instant but the cafeteria was crowded and the girl with a height of five-feet-too-tall and whose wrist was held by Seulgi looked genuinely happy. So, Wendy opted to drag her friend away and they get into a mildly-heated but _whispering_ argument, because she doesn’t want to give Sooyoung the wrong impression _(present Wendy thinks she already has, but anyway.)_

Seulgi knows how much Wendy loves routine, habits that are formed and done in a constant and continuous pace. With this _Sooyoung_ in the picture, however, her two-years-and-counting dynamic with Seulgi will be disrupted and Wendy is terrified at that prospect.

Still, Seulgi’s mind is unwavering. Once she’s set on a goal, no matter what, she pulls through. And this goal is in the form of transforming their _duo_ into a _trio._ Wendy's seriously about to cry.

“Okay, let’s try again.” Seulgi looks at her with firmness and she knows this is something she has to accept. Wendy frowns.

“Sooyoung, introduce yourself?” She urges, albeit tentatively. “Just so the both of us can get to know you more.” Seulgi faces the youngest girl and Wendy thought she would shy away at the suggestion, but Sooyoung’s features became marred with eagerness. _This girl is popular, a phenom. Why does it look like she wants to befriend them so bad?_

“I’m Joy, a Computer Science major. As _Wendy-unnie_ mentioned,” she turns to Wendy and smiles, but the older girl can’t help but shudder. There’s just something about the way her lips upturn in that shiny red gloss that looks so _menacing._

“I’m the youngest IOI gold medalist in the world, I just turned eleven at the time.”

Joy says it with pride and honestly, who wouldn’t be thrilled with such a feat?

“The first few months haven’t been easy.” The older girls’ eyebrows furrow at the statement, they certainly didn’t expect that.

Joy looks very much self-confident, she’s tall and her features harmonize into a face that’s _alluring_ , to say the least. Not to mention the fact that she’s a genius prodigy in a male-dominated field. All signs just point to perfection.

“But this is what I’ve always wanted! As soon as I won the IOI, I joined other programming competitions too. I travelled to Turkey and Iran, and I just _had_ to make sure that once I applied for MIT and MIT only, they would have no choice but to accept me.”

The older girls nod at Joy’s gusto, they’ve been there too, felt the same exhilaration too. And they commend the woman in front of them for pursuing what she wants with a sense of abandon; unchained by fears or risks.

“During winter break, I got more than I hoped for. The university sent me an email that they were scouting me with a full-ride scholarship, and if I would confirm, I’d become an official undergrad in fall.” Joy looks back at this memory to be her best one yet.

She was walking towards their neighborhood café — green hand-me-down coat and her favorite pair of black converse. Her scarf wasn’t on her neck, instead it encapsulated the love of her life, her laptop, positioned safely inside her backpack. The yellow chick keychain on the zipper was swaying left to right, in the rhythm of her footsteps.

She enters the brightly-lit establishment and is thankful for the sudden warmth. She brushes the snow off her hair and settles herself on the back, where it’s most quiet. She brings out her beloved device, unwrapping it from the old scarf. After pressing on the power button, she looks up and proceeds to admire the timely decorations: christmas balls, stars, and red wallpaper. _Hah. Same as last year._

Joy spends most of her holidays like this, alone on a two-seater desk where she basks on the well-functioning heater and warm tap water _(it’s the only drink she’s allowed, she only gets to stay without purchasing anything because her mother’s a friend of the owner.)_

She looks back at the laptop and it’s still opening, _43%..._ Sometimes, she wishes for something faster, or not as heavy and bulky, or one where she didn’t have to worry about malfunction when she runs Javascript and Photoshop at the same time. But this is one of the few things left of her father’s belongings and Sooyoung just shrugs, it was worth it.

Besides, they couldn’t afford an upgrade, more so a new one. Since her mother walks with only a high school degree at hand, looking for steady and sufficient income was difficult. One day they could be eating tuna kimbap and the next, their heating bill was cut off. Most of her mother’s earnings went to pay rent, and with her neighborhood continuously growing into a business district, the price hikes too.

She had repeatedly told her mother to just use the IOI prize money and other competition honorariums _(which were now accumulating into quite a hefty sum)_ for their necessities, but her mother blatantly refused, _“We might need that for emergencies.”_

Sooyoung can’t argue with that, it was always best to have an alternative, a reserve. In a way it’s similar to programming, you have to duplicate and backup data regularly because a system crash or a hard drive failure might happen, or maybe you’re dumb and you drop your laptop and it’s unfixable. _Sooyoung snickers at the thought._

She scrolls to the system settings and connects to free wifi. She checks out her email first, she should have received a slot confirmation on the upcoming Nexon Youth Programming Challenge anytime today.

She sees the topmost part of her inbox: **“Massachusetts Institute of Technology”.** _Odd, why would they message me?_

She was going to apply ED next year, once she finally turns fifteen. She’s confident she holds a lot of international awards now, even though it was less than what she could really accomplish _(because even if her skills are unparalleled, sometimes the organizations can’t sponsor the plane tickets and if that was the case, Sooyoung knows she can’t attend.)_

She shrugs, maybe it’s a campus flyer. After all, it was a well-known secret that the top institution was Sooyoung’s dream, she’s shared it so much in newspaper features and television interviews. Because a few months after winning the IOI, _Yonsei, KAIST,_ and other prestigious Korean universities were offering her admission to their computer science programs.

That meant she could finish college at sixteen, earn a doctorate degree by twenty. But as reporters mention this with astonishment, Sooyoung smiles bashfully in subtle rejection.

It was MIT she wanted and she’s working her butt off to get in.

She heaves a sigh, then idly opens the email.

***

**MIT Schwarzman College of Computing**

Congratulations on your impressive accomplishments, Park Sooyoung!

Based on your academic success, The MIT Undergraduate Admissions Committee would like to extend a personal invitation to explore our Computer Science program under the Stephen A. Schwarzman College of Computing. You will find that MIT is structured to provide early, hands-on engagement with ideas, activities, and learning that allow students to experience the range and power of computer science in an integrated way.

If you choose to attend, we will provide you with a rigorous training program combined with an extensive set of possibilities. If you feel the need to submit a request for financial aid, please contact our office at sfs@mit.edu or 617.648.9968.

Your commitment to personal excellence and principled goals has convinced us that you will be a great addition to our diverse community. We believe you and MIT are a great match, we hope you believe so too.

Sincerely,

Stuart Schmill  
Dean of Admissions

***

Sooyoung is staring at her screen, then she blinks. Once, twice, and a few more times to make sure she isn’t dreaming. This is real. She was invited by the same institution she’s been preparing all her accolades for. _Holy shi—_

She looks at the email again and feels hot tears pool at her cheeks. She wipes them hastily, laughing as she pulls out her handphone from the backpack beside her. She waits for the call to be picked up and Sooyoung glances at her reflection through the glass walls of the café, she looks funny, smiling while crying, so she fixes herself _(it’s not even facetime, but okay.)_

The ringing stops, _“Omma!”_

Sooyoung goes home immediately after the call. She runs on the thick levels of snow, it enters her worn out chuck taylors and she feels the cold at her feet but she doesn’t give a damn. She opens their front door and her mother engulfs her in a hug, all one hundred and seventy centimeters of Sooyoung contained in her mother’s five-foot-four body, arms wrapped around the daughter to convey feelings of pride and plea.

The older woman pulls away, Sooyoung sees watery eyes and quivering lips, the apology is bubbling at the tip of her mother’s tongue but Sooyoung shakes her head, holds her mother again, close and tenderly and full of love.

Later that night, she’s euphoric and stays up thinking of an english name. She hears light footsteps, her mom was on the way to another sideline, but she passes by Sooyoung’s room and asks why the girl is still up.

Sooyoung shrugs then explains, her mother simply nods and kisses her temple, “But you need to get some sleep soon.”

She nods too, then her mother approaches the door. As she turns the knob, she mentions the brand of dishwashing liquid she uses at the store, voice laced with timidness and uncertainty. She says her boss told her it meant _happiness_ and it reminds her of the daughter.

The door clicks shut and in an instant, Sooyoung curls up under her blanket. The decision was easy, like choosing between C++ and Python.

She’ll call herself Joy.

“Why’d you say your first month was rough?” Joy finds herself grounded to real life when Wendy asks her question.

The older girl looks inquisitive. Aversion was still there, but outweighed by a rather affectionate expression, like the blonde _understood._

“I'm famous.” Wendy scoffs and Seulgi looked amused, eyes buzzing with curiosity directed at the girl in front of her.

“I’m being honest.” A pause, “Whenever it’s my turn to recite or it’s a presentation in front of the class — as soon as my name is called, everyone suddenly stops talking.” She starts to fiddle with the hem of her nude sweater.

“Every morning, walking to my locker, I hear people whisper.” She croaks out. This is her first shot at real friendship and she will _try._

“They’ve put me on this pedestal and I’m thankful they think highly of me,” she chuckles a bit, “But I can’t seem to have any friends. It’s like I scare them.” _And it made me lonely,_ goes unspoken.

The two older girls are showing very different expressions, Seulgi with a mixture of endearment and wonder that bursts at the seams with, _“Then I’m glad I stumbled into you.”_

Wendy, on the other hand, starts with introspection. Then, it dawns on her. She never had to go through what the younger girl went through because Seulgi found her first — on the first day, on that rusty bench. Seulgi found her two years ago and now, she found Sooyoung. Wendy understood the concept of probability and time well enough to know that this is marvelous.

That for all the eras since helium and hydrogen combined to form the universe thirteen billion years ago, the three of them ended up here. Three koreans with brilliant minds and imperfect lives were aligned to meet at this university in this lifetime. It has to count for something.

So Wendy shines, with bright eyes and a kind gaze, “Then it’s a good thing you’re here now!”

The youngest girl looks at her with twinkling regard, knowing that it’s more than a good thing. She’s been looking at her life with inquiry because she’s smart and she’s pretty but what if she doesn’t have it all figured out? What if she’s setting herself up for failure? What if the restlessness never goes away? What’s next? How does she deal with it all alone?

She seeks the tiny comforts too, despite the seeming grandeur of who she is. She wants the miniscule relief of having someone to report to when she’s had a bad day _(as much as her mom is helpful, she’s a thousand miles away)._ She wants someone to rant to when her dataset is incomplete or when demanding Dr. Abel is being annoying. And she wants someone to understand that on some days, she isn’t a genius. She doesn’t know what an _oxymoron_ is, and she’s a kid who had to grow up quickly, feeling a constant need for _more._

She wants someone to listen to the inconsistencies, the clichés, the silence, and she wants someone who _understands._

Now, she sees an offer of not just someone, but two.

“You’re greasy unnie, has anyone ever told you that?” Joy exhales with a chuckle and Wendy smacks her lightly.

Seulgi laughs at the interaction, stands up to jump in glee. Wendy smacks her too, says she’s _embarrassing._ But Seulgi hits her back and soon, the three of them are engaged in a battle of who gets to strike who the most and they’re at the center of the cafeteria, some throwing weird looks and others warm glances.

The trio pay them no attention at all because this moment counted for something. Something greater and better — what it was, they just didn’t know it yet.

.

The elevator shoots open and Seungwan steps out. She scans the two floor-to-ceiling oakwood doors and breathes deep.

She wonders if meeting the model that night counted for something too. And she wonders if meeting her today was an error in her mathematical computation of probability or an invariable, pre-determined fate.

She glances at her wristwatch, _52 seconds_. Alright, let’s do this.

She pushes the heavy doors open and cameras start to flash. She smiles to some she recognizes: Mr. Lee from SMT, Ms. Park from YGK.

Rosé, her secretary, approaches her side and walks along with her.

“Miss Son, I was about to call you.” Rosé says in a hushed voice, makes sure the reporters around them don’t grasp a single word. “Miss Kang was beginning to worry.”

Wendy manages a chuckle, of course Seulgi knew she was always early and of course that said friend would be here.

They’re approaching the side of the stage and she sees Seulgi standing on the front row, all smiles and no bite as lensmen continue clicking on the shutter. Wendy sends her a small wave and turns to her secretary again.

“No questions will be asked right, Chaeyoung?” She was well-aware that there would be a separate conference for their press release. But with the large number of reporters and photographers from different media agencies all around the country, she needed to double-check.

Maybe she was somewhat, undermining United’s advancement. After all, their product introduction to the general public would mean levelling Korea with other superpower countries. Perhaps that’s the reason these people took the time to gather in their building’s conference hall.

But as Wendy’s eyes are taken towards the far end of the room, she thinks it’s for a totally different reason.

Her secretary speaks, “You’ll be introducing the company and the new product line-up, then Ms. Bae will introduce herself as well. The both of you will sign, exchange contracts, and then it’s over, Ms. Son.”

Wendy simply nods, she’s been through this procedure so many times _(but never with a gorgeous supermodel she had a one-night stand with, but it doesn’t really matter.)_

She looks back at where her gaze traveled earlier, sees the model standing beside a formally dressed woman, and it looks like she’s being briefed as well.

Wendy doesn’t have the time to swoon because they’re motioned to go on stage and the signing will start. She sees Seulgi mouth _“fighting!”_ and Wendy holds back a snort.

She comes up, the model does too, and this time Wendy gets to look at her properly. They’re posing for the cameras now and if the Irene years ago was gorgeous, this Irene is _ethereal._ Breathtaking.

Her black onyx hair falls on one side of her shoulders and she’s dressed in an all-white outfit — a lace long-sleeved tube top that hugs her figure in all the right places, partnered with a pleated skirt and high heels.

This is how supermodels look in real life? _What the fuck?_

For a second she panics, _fuck fuck fuck_ , but she breathes. _Inhale._ Hundreds of cameras are catching on every moment and so Wendy carries on, motions just behind her chair.

She was handed the microphone and she rubs her palms at her suit pants by habit. She hears the woman beside her chuckle. _Did she just laugh at me?_

The admiration that was once there is replaced with spite. _She just laughed at me._

Wendy forces a smile, “Good day to everyone present," she bows slightly. “This is Wendy Son, CEO of United and on behalf of the company, thank you for being here.”

The audience claps and Wendy hands the mic to the model beside her. She hates how the woman receives it daintily as if she’s flirting — doesn’t like the way Irene's lips are turned upward on one side and how her chin is tilted forward.

Wendy doesn’t like her, this _Joohyun_ looks so full of herself.

“I’m Bae Irene, United’s newest brand ambassador.” She finishes with a small smile and Wendy really doesn’t like that the model’s voice sounds soft and pretty. She doesn’t like her at all.

The both of them sit down and Wendy opens the contract in front of her, affixes her signature at once. _Let’s get this over with._

They finish at almost the same time, turning the cushioned paperboard on one side and exchanging.

Wendy sees the woman’s gaze fixed on the contract in her hands. _What, I’m not even worthy to be looked at now?_

She forces a smile again, she’s a professional. She flips it open and signs. And as the two of them close their respective documents, the audience applauds and the cameras begin to shutter louder. They're both overfamiliar with the sound, accompanied by flashes of rapidly blinking lights.

Wendy stands and Irene follows, they turn to face each other, then Wendy feels something stir; like the core of the earth is disjointed and the sun splinters. She stares at the woman in front of her and thinks Irene feels it too.

The model snakes her hand in front of her and the moment is gone. Wendy remembers where they are and that this was business.

“Thank you for working with us, Irene-ssi.” Her voice is surprisingly steady as she accepts the handshake in one swift motion. _Fuck._

It renders to her gradually how their hands mesh together so well, as if the gaps between her fingers were meant to be filled by the woman in front of her. _Fuck._

She sounds stupid. So she lets go first and forces the thoughts to go away. 

Irene simply smiles, and their photographs are taken for the last time.

She gets down from the stage and on the opposite side, Irene does too. The supermodel walks straight to the door as the flashes of light follow her every step and people call out her name.

Wendy remembers the woman doesn’t thank her back, nor did she say “you’re welcome.”

Wendy decides: she doesn’t like Irene.

.

“She’s mean, I don’t like her.” Wendy says dejectedly, buckling up at the backseat of Seulgi’s white mercedes benz.

“Sure unnie, keep telling yourself that.” Joy answers from the passenger side, fingers scrolling through her phone.

“Have stocks gone up, Sooyoung-ah?” Seulgi asks curiously. She sneaks a peek at Joy’s phone, but immediately resumes her line of vision on the road.

Wendy fishes out her mobile too, sees 99+ unread emails, back-to-back interviews, and a calendar that could replace the color wheel, each shade corresponding to a different schedule.

She clicks on the stock market app and the numbers speak for itself _+452.29_ , graphs are colored green with a steady positive projection. Again, Wendy should be happy — ecstatic even. But she opts to lock her phone and slouches further into the leather seat.

Joy chuckles at her antics, “Wait ‘til you here what social media’s saying, Wendy-unnie.”

“I’m not interested, Sooyoung. I’d rather not—”

“CEO Son and The Bae, clad in black and white respectively, complement each other like the Yin and Yang the industry needs.” Wendy rolls her eyes, out of all the articles Joy can read aloud, she chooses the one that sounds like an alternate superhero universe or a blooming love affair. _Ugh, media._

She hears her friends’ resonating laugh, “Yah! You should have seen her. For a second she looked like she was gonna run away.” Seulgi remarks playfully and Wendy rolls her eyes again.

It’s true, she wanted to bail.

“She laughed at me! Like you know the thing I do, when I rub my hands whenever I feel nervous, she laughed!” Wendy spits it all like rapidfire and she is _unyielding,_ “And she sits like her spine is a hundred and eighty degrees! Like her shoulders can balance four glasses and none would break.”

The pair laughs again and Wendy groans internally, “Maybe she just found you cute, Wan, like _funny cute."_ Seulgi tells her, "Also, will you please stop exaggerating?”

“And what did you expect?” Joy adds further, “She’s a globally-famed supermodel. She’s required to look like she has the world at her fingertips.”

Wendy clicks her tongue at the oddly-accurate analogy, and she really can’t say anything else. _Fair point._

“Anyway unnie, I know you won’t look at them yourself so I’m going to personally take a few minutes from my invaluable time to show you.” The younger girl faces her with a smile (again, it’s _menacing_ ), and forces her phone in Wendy’s hand. She peers at the device.

 **@ireneismyreligion** why do they look like exes who meet again unexpectedly? this is the au i signed up for! 🤩  
 **@raisimps** y’all are missing the point!!! this is one of the rare moments where Irene doesn’t overshadow whoever she’s with, and that’s on ✨chemistry✨  
 **@hetluvie** GUYS STOP IT THIS ISN’T A FIC they’re just business partners who can also possibly become friends, and then they date and fall in love and save the world from poverty oh my god—  
 **@thewan4me** damn, I feel the tension through the screen. There’s beef between them I just know it!!

Wendy wonders just where exactly the replies are coming from, what these people are looking at to make them respond like _this._

She can’t deny, she finds them a teensy _weensy_ bit hilarious.

She scrolls on Sooyoung’s Twitter feed and clicks on the image. Oh.

_Oh._

That split-second moment earlier was legit, and the cameras caught it like a movie reel. It exists and it’s there.

They’re standing, a few feet away from the other, staring with an expression that Wendy can’t pinpoint — admiration, sentimentality, with a tad hint of annoyance _(she laughed at me!)_

Wendy doesn’t know what to think, she doesn’t know what it means _(or if it means anything.)_ And yes she’s smart, but she’s experienced and humble enough to concede. There are some things you can’t explain, some things you have no words for.

She hands back the phone to the younger girl who’s enjoying herself with an unmistakable appearance of mirth. Wendy looks out the window instead.

She remembers the familiar path to Gwangjang Market, where they often came by to seek escape. The three of them met and bond over food, so naturally, they found solitude in it too. When they were fresh out of college, flying back to Korea with a bleary business plan and only their degrees to pull them together, they found themselves frequenting the century-old district.

Back then, they could only afford _odeng_ and _hotteok_ to keep themselves stuffed for the day. Now, they could probably taste all the dishes and their wallets would remain unperturbed.

Ironically enough, that privilege came with a substantial cost. Keeping the company where it is meant that they would have less and less time to visit the place together. It’s been months, years even, since the three of them went back.

Today, however, stood to be out of the ordinary because when _halmeoni_ heard the news of United’s most recent success, she called Seulgi, persuading them to come over to the well-loved stall, that she’ll give them their usual orders free of charge.

Seulgi tells them in giggles that it is _absurd_ to refuse the blessing of free food. But the three of them know there’s an entirely different reason, shadowed by the indebted looks in their eyes.

 _Halmeoni_ gave them bowls of _tteokbokki_ when they didn’t have enough money for it. She would leave her task of grilling and offer them _makgeolli_ too, listening to disheartened stories and struggles of starting a business over glasses of alcohol.

They weren’t related to her at all, but she treated the trio like her open-air restaurant was a place where they could always seek refuge.

One morning after, they were set to join a product bidding event. _Marriot,_ a US-based hotel chain and at the time, the world’s biggest, was looking for the best laundry detergent. Others would have found it strange, knowing there was Tide and Persil and other famous brands, but Wendy knew what was lacking.

Detergent shouldn’t be just spot-treating, it should have good fragrance yet unsusceptible to skin allergies. It shouldn’t have residue no matter what the water temperature was, and the synthetic chemicals involved should be environmentally safe because they were going to use it _a lot._

All of this and still, cost-efficient.

Wendy knew and she was putting it together. Seulgi was working on their funding and Sooyoung with the product design.

The next thing they knew, they won the million-dollar contract. That same night, they celebrated with _halmeoni._ News about an underdog business spread like wildfire and the next morning, investors lined up outside their tiny office. A few more days after, they had left the place and transferred to a two-story, where the first floor was for appointments and the second was Wendy’s lab. A few more weeks, they started looking for employees. Months in, they were signing international deals.

Then, Wendy had her heart broken. After not visiting for so long, they found themselves huddled in the same place, the smell of cheap barbecue invading their nostrils.

The three girls should apologize, it felt like they were being ungrateful. But halmeoni welcomes them just like old times and doesn't make comments on Wendy’s crestfallen appearance.

Instead, she brings out the liquor, asks about the booming business, and despite the fact that Wendy’s mulling over memories of a love she lost — she looks at the women in front of her. Under the flickering light, Wendy doesn’t try to reconstruct a love that’s unsalvageable.

Wendy decides to let go.

So, despite her currently crammed schedule, Joy’s unfinished program line, and Seulgi’s pending meetings with PR and endorsers, they’re heading towards a place with incredible familiarity and ease.

“I invited Irene,” Seulgi pauses and before Wendy can mouth _why,_ “Small talk, ‘cause _someone_ was running late.”

Wendy opens her mouth in an attempt to defend herself. To be fair, she wasn’t late. _She had 52 seconds left!_

But Seulgi continues, “She was in a hurry though, said she had an important overseas schedule but thanked me for the offer.”

The _audacity,_ Irene thanked her friend but didn’t say anything to her. Wendy can’t help but cross her arms.

Joy quips to the woman on the driver seat, “You should’ve lent her the jet.”

The youngest of the trio was often the most prudent and suspicious with business partners. With anyone, actually. So, Wendy can't help butt in, “Why would she do that?”

Joy had trust issues, probably brought about by the tons of disguised phishing attacks she had to block every day. Basically, it was more than unusual for her to suggest lending their private jet with such nonchalance.

“So you could talk about the one-night stand, unnie.”

Ah, there’s the punchline. _What a cheeky little shithead. I will seriously—_

Wendy’s thoughts are cut off by the sound of the car doors unlocking.

Seulgi parked at the mall, since the traditional market would be too crowded by now; as the sun is slowly setting and the hues of the sky turn into lilac.

The oldest walks to her trunk and picks up three pairs of gucci sneakers, then returns back to driver’s seat, passing over the shoes to their respective owners. They had no time to change out of their work clothes, not that it mattered anyway. They just wanted to swap the heels because the walk from the mall to the restaurant wasn’t necessarily the shortest distance.

As she’s tying her laces, Seulgi perks up, “Has Rosé told you about the press conference?”

Wendy nods.

“It’s in two days.”

Wendy nods again. She knows. Her secretary, as diligent as ever, would never miss out on a detail as important.

“You know you’ll finally have to talk to her.” Joy pauses, her discarded heels now tucked safely on her seat. “You’ll have to brief her about the terms, what she can say, and _other stuff._ ”

Joy says in a sing-song tone, looking at Wendy with that _menacing_ smile and the mocking glint in her eyes doesn't go unnoticed too.

Wendy simply shrugs, trying to show her indifference _(keyword: trying.)_

Seulgi chuckles at the poor attempt, “Seungwan-ah, you’re making it too easy to tease you.”

Wendy huffs, choosing to push open the car door instead and the three of them step out into the cold air.

Joy wraps her arms around Seulgi’s and with the older girl’s free one, she puts over Wendy’s shoulder.

“You’ll do great, Wan.” Seulgi says encouragingly, “You’ve been through much worse.”

 _Nice,_ Sooyoung said that too. At least they all agreed on one thing.

She nods again, places her hands in the pockets of her collared, gray wool coat.

All she can really manage is a sigh.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, CDA stands for confidentiality disclosure agreement. It's a thing in their contract which states that throughout the partnership, each party has to share certain and vital information to the other.
> 
> Enjoy!

Wendy feels a headache coming, she shoots a hand to her forehead and winces.

Just two days ago, the three of them had stayed in Gwangjang until dawn.

.

As soon as they had arrived, they settle on their usual seats that apparently _halmeoni_ had reserved for them. Seulgi approaches the elderly woman, notices her hair is visibly whiter and she scrunches her nose with concern when she sees the calloused, weathered hands are twitching.

Her gaze is broken when the older woman runs and engulfs her in hug, _“_ Seulgi-yah!”

Seulgi laughs and hugs back even tighter. She pulls her to the group, and they exchange pleasantries and embraces as well. Halmeoni asks for their orders, says she can follow suit when rush hour dies down.

The trio nod eagerly, they freed their whole evening for this anyway.

They talk about the company, listening to Joy complain about an infuriating IT intern. _“You can’t be mad, Joy, no one’s as annoying as you,”_ and Wendy receives a blow at the back of her head. She pulls her sleeves up, readies herself to fight back but Seulgi stops the both of them. _Typical._ And before they move on to another topic, the oldest friend says she can talk to HR about the issue. Again, _typical Seulgi,_ always so thoughtful. Joy smiles softly and tells her not to bother.

A few more moments wave through, glasses clink around them and the evening breeze gently passes, until Wendy brings up that she's quite positive they’re being watched. The youngest quips that the more appropriate statement was they’re being _judged_.

Aside from the fact that they’re dressed in what looks too overpriced to be brushed aside, the truly pressing matter was not their appearance, but that they looked like they haven’t eaten in _centuries._ Wendy is currently on her third roll of _mayak g_ _imbap,_ Sooyoung on her fifth _hotteok_ , and for Seulgi — well, judging by the stack of empty plates in front of her and how she’s devouring each piece of _sundae_ quickly, the two younger girls seem to pale in comparison.

 _Halmeoni_ offers her a drink, worries she might choke on the food. Seulgi accepts it with cheeks full and she smiles. Bits of the blood sausage fall over which is _absolutely disgusting_ and yet all of them laugh.

Joy talks about the newest product-line, takes every opportunity to tease her about Irene. Seulgi even goes on to talk about the _thing_ and halmeoni looks disgruntled.

Wendy was under the impression that the elder woman felt distressed because she had sex with a stranger, but halmeoni suddenly pounds on their table with force, “Ask her out already, Seungwan! _Aish,_ you’re so slow!"

And Wendy hears their glasses clatter and the table is shaking, her two friends are currently smacking on the surface doubling with laughter. _Poor table but poorer Wendy._

She grumbles and hurriedly swallows her _soju,_ pressing a palm on her cheek. She notes that it’s a tad bit too warm to be caused by the alcohol but she doesn’t say anything. Not when halmeoni means well and she sees her laughing hard too.

They talk about other, more mundane things. They bring up the past and when Wendy notices they’re starting to veer into uncharted domains _—_ recollections of singing and doll-like features _—_ she steers the conversation away.

She’s far from where she used to be, after all it’s been two years since _her._ And Wendy’s at the point in her life where thinking of _her_ doesn’t make her want to run back to the past, but still, no.

She can’t talk about the hole inside of her so openly when she’s just starting to feel that her heart can work, despite being haphazardly pieced back together.

And Wendy looks at the women sitting across from her and she’s filled with an affection and belonging that makes her so _certain_ _—_ she’ll be okay. Right now, she felt as if nothing could be better. The sense of letting moments take its course as the night swoops down and the wind shifts.  
  
There's a distant barking of what seems to be many dogs, then Wendy hears a rooster crow. She glances at her wrist, 4:38am. _Holy shi—_

“You look like a pepperoni.” Seulgi cackles at Joy. The younger girl is red, like _really_ red. So Wendy laughs with her and halmeoni says, “You still look pretty, dear.”

Wendy thinks Sooyoung was going to respond with appreciation or words along “ _I know right!”,_ but the girl’s head bangs loudly on the table and _did Joy just black out?_   
  
"Sooyoung just passed out." Seulgi comments. They laugh harder.

.

But of course, Wendy’s life is inclined to chaos. Not in a weird or karmaic way — _I did something bad in the past so it comes back biting me in the ass._ No, no.

Life just always seems to get more complicated. It’s factual and fundamental, Murphy’s Law.

But understanding the inevitable doesn’t make it any easier.

Right now, she's standing in the private room that leads to their event hall, and she sees the cause of her approaching headache — a gorgeous woman with long black her partitioned flawlessly in the middle. She was sporting a white rib-knit sweater vest, tucked in black trousers and a gray checkered blazer hanging on her chair. She really has this _aura_ that sets her apart, so Wendy is compelled to notice the details.

But then the CEO remembers the model didn’t thank her, didn’t look at her, and remembers that she is an arrogantly elegant and pretty woman, but still — _arrogant._

She looks at her again. Irene, who was tapping furiously on her phone with both thumbs, had her brows creased and lips pressed in utter focus.

And Wendy sees the opportunity and formulates a quick plan. She was taught, at the words of her enthusiastic professor, _“With curiosity, chemistry discovers!”_

So she walks toward the woman, footsteps light and hiding her small exhilaration at a successful 'revenge' scheme.  
  
The model doesn’t notice Wendy’s presence, by all accounts engrossed in her game. When the CEO crouches down to the Irene's shoulder to peer at the device at hand, a frown forms on her lips. 

She approached the woman with the intention of distracting her. But with what Wendy’s seeing, she’s convinced to do the opposite.

“If you don’t get out of there, you’re gonna die.”

Irene jumps at the sound and at the next second, her screen displays: " _Better luck next time!"_

Wendy was too late.

“This is your fault!” She turns to the CEO and Wendy stares at her incredulously. _I gave you a warning! I was trying to help!_

Wendy knows she had a different, initial goal, but that’s beside the point!

“It’s not, this loss was on you.” She grunts.

Wendy vaguely registers how close they are, her face is inches away from the other girl, but her mind was pre-occupied by the false accusations.

“No, it’s your fault.” The older woman wrinkles her nose and leans closer as if she’s trying to intimidate Wendy.

So naturally, Wendy does the same. “It’s not.”

Closer.  
  
“It is.”

Closer.

“It’s not.” Wendy says stubbornly.

Their lips are only centimeters away and Wendy realizes they are just so close, _too_ close, but she is stubborn and she doesn’t want to back down from the challenge. The model in front of her is staring with matched intensity, the same amount of vigor.

Maybe it was just Wendy and her satin sleeve top, but it was getting warmer in the room and she really doesn’t want to look away because she’s firm and Irene looks really beautiful and Wendy notices she has a mole on her cheek and she smells like lavender and it’s rich and filling her senses _—_

“Joohyun.” They break apart instantly at the sound, feeling _caught._

Wendy straightens up, clearing her throat. She wonders how long they’ve been staring at each other, and she remembers the same feeling two days ago _—_ about the universe reeling in _—_ and she doesn’t really know how to feel about the _intrusion._

She remembers this woman from the contract signing, short hair and round eyes, she was probably Irene’s manager. Said woman bows to Wendy, albeit confused at the scene she just encountered.

“What is it, Jihyo?” Irene asks, sighing. She sounds _disappointed?_ Wendy’s not sure because the model’s face is soon marked by displeasure, as Jihyo hands her a mobile phone and Irene sees the familiar outline of a news article.

Jihyo turns to Wendy, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Son.” Then she proceeds to bow again, “I’m Irene’s manager, please call me Jihyo.”

Wendy doesn’t make out the girl’s apologetic look _(maybe because of the earlier incident?),_ so she smiles, “Thank you for working hard, Jihyo-ssi.”

Jihyo grins broadly at the comment and pulls out a chair for Wendy. Before she can declare her thanks, Irene heaves a deeper sigh.

“It’s trending?” Jihyo simply nods.

Irene returns the device and the owner pauses a bit. They have this telepathy thing going on and Wendy focuses her line of sight on her lap instead, like her thighs are transforming into graphene or photosynthesizing into a plant.

Irene waves a dismissive hand toward the manager, then Jihyo walks away.

“Sorry about that,” Wendy simply hums in acknowledgement, “I don’t think introductions are necessary, unless you’ve forgotten.” The smirk in Irene's voice means she's taunting Wendy again. And seriously, _what is it with that vertically upright posture?_

The CEO knows what the other woman is trying to do, but she’s a professional and this was business. So although it takes all of her willpower to stop an eye roll from descending, she simply shakes her head in a noncommittal way.

“We have a few minutes left for preparation.” Wendy says as she tries not to look directly at the woman’s face. She swears that tinge of disappointment on the model’s features is reappearing, but Wendy is too fixated on keeping herself together. _She really doesn’t like Irene._

“Yeah, before that,” Irene begins rather bashfully _(Wendy doesn’t buy it),_ and their eyes meet as the CEO notices an expression of distress.

“Since it was stated in our CDA, I figured I should tell you this first.”

Oh. This was probably why Jihyo looked _too_ sorry.

“Some publication interviewed a fellow model,” Irene clicks her tongue, “and they released an article and it's saying I’m a stuck-up?” She mumbles, unsure, trying to recall the exact words.

“Ah, right, it said I was stuck-up and vicious. And since it’s from a fellow model, the media automatically assumes it’s a credible source.” Irene meant to say it with sarcasm, but it comes out rather solemn.

Wendy knows that feeling, knows a life ruled over by cameras and commentaries on paper.

“Don’t worry,” Irene straightens her position further, “I’ll release a statement soon, but I have to focus on our presscon first.”

Wendy feels her shoulder slack with guilt _._ Just a while ago she had been thinking badly of the woman and yet here was Irene, choosing to prioritize their event when she could have been communicating with that co-worker by now.

So Wendy decides that it’s something else she doesn’t like, the way there’s sadness in Irene’s pretty face.

“Wendy-ssi, it’s going to be fine.” She offers her a smile, “Your stocks are probably going to bump down slightly, but it’s going to be fine.”

And Wendy decides what she doesn’t like the most is that Irene thinks she’s worried about that. _Stocks._

“Sometimes I just wish I could hold someone responsible, you know? For why my life’s so complicated.” Irene chuckles bitterly, “So I could slap them.”

And the mood is lifted a bit. Funny, Wendy was just thinking about that earlier. _Murphy’s Law._

“I’m sorry, what?” Irene asks.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Nope,” she emphasizes on the ‘p’, “I’m pretty sure you murmured something.”

Oh. Wendy said it out loud.

Might as well get it out there.

“Murphy’s Law.”

“Ah,” The older woman smiles, “What’s that?” She quizzes, her fascination was obvious.

Wendy hums, she won't admit it but she loves the genuine interest in the model's expression. Even now, the brown eyes have remained captivating.  
  
She ignores it, choosing to scan her eyes around the room instead. She sees four plastic bottles on Irene’s desk, then she pulls her chair closer to the counter, lining them up in a two-by-two formation.  
  
“Let’s say this is your life now.”

Irene nods.

“You don’t touch it, you keep it as it is. But the wind was too harsh and one knocked over.” Wendy pushes the bottle and it falls sideways.

“Then, a girl playing PUBG lost _so badly_ that she angrily hits the table.” Irene rolls her eyes at the reference, but she’s very much enjoying the exchange. Wendy pushes the other bottle and it hits the other one and basically, the vanity mirror desk was now scattered with bottles.

Wendy stops to look at her. And Irene tries, she really does.

“Are you saying life falls apart because it’s made up of plastic evian bottles?” Irene giggles, “Because that makes zero sense.”

Wendy's inclined to notice the details of her reaction, the woman is poking fun and she knows better than to bite back. She presumes it's the model’s way of showing she wants more answers, so she sucks in a small breath and settles on honesty.

“I’m saying, Irene-ssi—”

“Just 'Irene' is good.”

“I’m saying, _just Irene_ —,” they both chuckle, “—that Murphy’s Law is a force that inclines the world to disarray. Every day, the universe is naturally sliding into chaos. Sand castles drift away, mountains erode, and people age.”

“So, are you also saying, _just Wendy_ —”, the younger girl rolls her eyes playfully, “—that we have no choice but to accept our disastrous fate?” The older woman scoffs, “That sounds like an excuse.”

Wendy smiles albeit a small one, and hums in approval.

“Sometimes, it is.” Wendy doesn't make eye contact, but Irene is staring at her almost as if she's willing her to. Wendy shakes the sudden urge to do so. “People use it as a scapegoat, like someone or something they can blame.”

She retrieves the fallen bottles, positioning them upright again as she continues, “But the thing is, you can go against Entropy.”

“How?”

“You work for it.”

Irene keeps mum, Wendy takes it as a sign to expound further.

“You have to spend energy and exert effort for the goods things to happen.”

The model hums in comprehension, nodding her head in agreement.

A silence falls over and the older woman is the first to break it, “Wow, Wendy. That’s where your mind goes?”

Wendy feels something warm settle deep inside her chest at that recognition, making herself a tad bid proud. She grins at the girl in front of her and the woman’s eyes twinkle as she laughs.

Wendy decides on what she definitely likes: the sound of that.

“As much as I would love to reminisce,” she sees a different kind of a glint on Irene’s eyes, but she blinks and it’s gone, “We have a press conference that will start in about six minutes.”

_What?_

The model says this as her sight is directed at the wall clock above them and Wendy whips her head at the speed of light _(that’s not scientifically possible but you get her point. Because holy shit.)_

They had six minutes left ‘til an hour-and-a-half conference, and all they’ve managed to talk about is the second law of thermodynamics.

Wendy turns to the other girl and folds her arms over the desk, she hopes her rambling will now prove to be useful. “I’m going to discuss the new product line first...”

.

**_90 minutes_ **

Wendy and Irene step into the hall and hear the familiar shutter.

The beginning is procedural — Wendy thinks she could do it half asleep. They bow, pose for the cameras, introduce themselves, and then move to take their seats.

However, this time she’s delegated half-an-hour to correctly launch the product, and the succeeding hour to answer questions. It’s all meant to culminate excitement and anticipation from the greater public, and subsequently generate a huge influx of sales.

She gazes at the hall and sees the familiar photographers. Unlike where they had their contract signing, this high-ceiling eventplace is much bigger in area.

It’s lined with rows of tables, macbooks and laptops all affronted on its surface as journalists type frantically, making sure that they’re quick and accurate and that every single moment is published for the world to read.

There are several exits from the left and right side, both guarded by security. But Wendy thinks the grandeur of the event is located at the backmost part of the hall, where an assortment of cuisine is cooked fresh and hot by the company’s world-class chefs.

Her eyes travel back to the front, and she sees a large-sensor camcorder fastened on a tripod. She faces it and waves, subtly motioning Irene to do the same. They’re being broadcasted live on all social media platforms and on selected TV channels around the globe.

Wendy’s handed the microphone, and she escorts the model to her respective chair.

White letters on the teleprompter appear and the CEO takes it as her cue.

.

**_53 minutes_ **

“Thank you for listening.” She bows, moves toward the seat, and Irene turns to her with an expression that’s foreign to Wendy. It’s like the other girl wants to laugh, but not _at_ Wendy per se, maybe _with_ Wendy? She’s not really sure, she’ll ask the girl later _(as if.)_

In the past thirty minutes, Wendy talked about three essential things: _What-How-Why,_ but in reverse order.

It’s one of her covert business techniques.

People don’t buy from you because of what you’re selling, unless it’s an innovation — like a flying car or a shrinkable bed. But instead, they’re buying why you do it.

Picture this: you’re aimlessly strolling in the mall and suddenly a salesman comes up to you, says he’s selling an affordable cleansing face wash. Do you want to buy one?

Any other normal consumer would mouth a _no,_ and would brusquely walk away. Then the salesman says the same line to a different passerby and they walk away, too. It’s a sad reality.

So the key is, start with:

 _Why_ —

In everything United does, we believe in challenging the status quo. We continuously move towards improving your lives.

 _How_ —

We do this by carefully crafting our products, each one meticulously planned by the team, tested in the lab, and bought by every customer with utmost reliance.

 _What_ —

We happen to sell a new cleansing facewash that’s affordable and environment-friendly. Want to buy one?

And the consumer starts to doublethink and honestly, the next thing you know you’re buying three.

So yeah, what Wendy did was _somewhat_ like that except she isn’t a salesman but a CEO, selling out a multi-million dollar contract where she discussed their newest line of cosmetics with plenty more complicated terminologies. And it took her 30 minutes because there were aesthetic slides and animation and pictures at the lab, in which she looked like a tired and stressed nerd — with her white coat and goggles that couldn’t hide the frustration in narrowed eyes.

She glances over Irene and sees the woman giggling, Wendy wonders again if she’s being made fun of.

With others, the CEO usually pays it no mind. She’s a patient, rational, and logical person so she doesn’t really care about what other people think.

But she wonders why it’s different with Irene, why she feels like she’s being challenged in ways that never occurred to her before. It happened _that_ night too, Irene fuels a fire within Wendy and yes, _it led to sex_ but it was also something different, like the spark never truly died out.

Wendy looks at the girl and Wendy remembers what Irene is truly here for, the next portion. And Wendy also wholeheartedly acknowledges that this is the other woman’s playing field (which also signifies one of the _exceptional_ occasions where she will admit defeat to the supermodel.)

Viewers from around the globe can send in their queries, some are even in zoom sessions shown through their hanging LED screen.

And Wendy remembers Joy’s complaints during their dry-run, the younger girl found many attempts of hacking in their system; not for their company information though, but to send video greetings. Joy starts typing furiously on one desktop, says they have to tighten security, and then something pops up — a young-looking girl who was also very much passionate, “ _JOOHYUN-UNNIE IF IT’S NOT YOU WALKING DOWN THE AISLE THEN I’M NEVER GONNA MARRY_ ”

Wendy looks back at the memory and chuckles. She’s now easing in her chair knowing that at these moments, questions such as _“What were the weaknesses you encountered during the product and process modeling and simulation for optimization?”_ are never asked.

Instead, the audiences share their expectations on the newest products, even going ahead to say " _If Irene unnie is using it then I will, without a doubt, use it too!_

And Wendy revels in Irene’s melodious laugh, it’s like an entrancing dream as waves meet the shore.

Then the short time the two spent for debriefing was more than enough for Irene to the questions with ease. She's asked about her honest thoughts on the products _(They’re simply amazing! My skin feels so much lighter!)_ , what made her sign with the company _(It’s United, who wouldn’t be honored to?),_ how it feels working alongside Wendy _(She makes me laugh, in a way that I haven’t for a long time.)_

And she says this looking at Wendy with candidness and a coy smile, and the dull ache in Seungwan’s chest is overpowered by a swelling warmth, Irene looks away. _(She should consider investing a career in comedy.)_

And it ends with Wendy rolling her eyes.

The warmth is dispelled (Wendy thinks it’s plain irritation by now), but she found herself chuckling at the remark and everyone in the crowd laughs too.

Wendy really has to step up her game.

.

**_22 minutes_ **

Now, this. This is the part she doesn’t like.

The reporters in the crowd are lining up to the mic stand at the center aisle, and Wendy _hates_ them. She hates them more than unbalanced chemical equations and cartesian analytic geometry.

She doesn’t mean to generalize but she can’t help it, almost every single one of them is a manipulative and cunning piece of shit.

And this has been like, what? The second question? Wendy groans internally.

She’s well-aware that these people are sent preliminaries even months before the event. An invitation to United’s press conferences meant that the questions must be strictly related to the matter-at-hand, and must never intentionally attack their private lives.

Still, she can’t help but be wary. And it looks like the woman beside her is, too.

Irene was scratching the white linen tablecloth lazily, dragging her nails back and forth. Wendy thinks the other woman is itching to hold onto something.

“This is a query for CEO Son.” The female reporter remarks. She looks relatively young, probably mid 20s, holding a pen and notebook in her hand.

She’s new _,_ Wendy thinks, so that means she isn’t part of the braindead ones, _yet._

“You started out with a niche combination of chemistry and mathematics—”, Wendy simply nods, “—and you’ve written several acclaimed scientific papers throughout the years.” Wendy nods again, albeit self-consciously.

Irene raises her brow at the woman beside her, she didn’t know that about the younger girl.

“Why become United’s CEO?” The reporter finishes. Wendy admits, it’s a clever move. It sways along the lines of personal and yet it was about the business, it asked her about the _why._

Wendy hums, “Thank you for the question.”

She’s buying time to answer. It’s clear-cut in her head, but she has to say it in a way that doesn’t disclose too much and yet satisfies as an explanation.

“I didn’t come from a well-off family.” That’s everything she’ll say about her kin, “And I needed to maximize the free, quality education given to me at MIT. So I majored in chemical engineering — an ample amount of math and a bit more chemistry,” Wendy pauses, “and I found it as the blend most fit for me.”

She remembers being blatantly told that she excels extraordinarily in both fields, that she is one of a kind because at the age of 12 she understood Le Chatelier's principle as much as Gödel’s First Incompleteness Theorem. And although both mathematics and chemistry were uniquely elegant and remarkable, Wendy found herself enchanted by the latter.

The said subject started standing out when she first studied crystal field theory, it uses a simple notion of splitting the energies of molecular orbitals, to be able to explain varying properties of thousands of compounds. It tells us why _rubies are red_ and _emeralds are green_ , and growing Wendy — with squishy cheeks and bangs — was wonderstruck.

She starts to think that maybe if she studied hard enough, one day she would discover a new element, or construct a complex three-dimensional molecule, or find out the origins of life.

But for now, she needs to answer the reporter’s question.

“I also had to be practical, so I decided to major in finance too. Then I met good people,” Wendy smiles, “and we formed the company.”

Her grin shines, but she’s not yet done. “I thought that, although chemistry is yet to prove the most complex mysteries of the universe, at least we can make use of it to build a better world.”

Wendy thinks she deserves eight hours of sleep for that speech alone.

The hall is clapping and the female reporter simply smiles, _because how do you respond to that?_

Irene takes the moment to lean into Wendy’s ear. Surprisingly, the younger girl doesn’t back away in reflex, she even angles herself to hear Irene better.

“I am absolutely impressed with where your mind goes.” And Wendy has to physically stop herself from grinning too widely.

As Irene backs away with crinkling eyes, she places her hand over Wendy’s — dainty, soft, and long fingers covering her own and Wendy’s head is screaming profanities again.

In a few seconds, Irene pulls her hand back and Wendy trains her eyes on the next reporter in line so she can resume thinking _properly._

“My question is for Miss Bae.” That voice sends Wendy back to reality, she doesn’t like the sound it, like he knows something they don’t. And Wendy won’t comment on his looks because she isn’t condescending like that but he’s donning a smug smile that is _unnerving,_ to say the least _._

“What are your thoughts on Jackson Wang?” Wendy sees Irene scratching on the fabric again. _Jackson who?_

She looks to her left and sees Jihyo’s round eyes oozing with worry.

Irene hasn’t responded yet, but the scratching on the table cloth goes slower.

She turns to her secretary with precision and Rosé is signaling her with ‘ _the fist’_. It’s a code they’ve created throughout years of work, and the secretary is basically asking if the man should be dragged away.

Wendy answers with an open palm, _no._

Because the middle-aged man in front of them looks very much capable of creating a scene, and they’re being broadcasted in over a hundred countries and Wendy’s worried, but she still didn’t know just _who the fuck_ they were talking about.

“I think he’s a talented model.” Irene answers with a small smile and the gears in Wendy’s head are turning at about 306 miles per hour.

_The article._

Wendy remembers Irene never said anything about the model’s gender and Wendy isn’t surprised it was a _man._

“I don’t think he says the same about you, Irene-ssi.”

Again, Wendy is a patient, logical, and rational person, but she _loathes_ the way that reporter says Irene’s name.

“I don’t see how that’s my problem.” The model answers.

“Isn’t he saying that because you allegedly cheated on him?”

Wendy feels her jaw tighten, she’s at the edge of her seat and she wonders if this man is aware that in a few minutes, he won’t have a job anymore.

Irene sucks in a long breath and Wendy reaches out to hold her hand. _I'm with you._

“We never had a relationship.”

“You’re denying the relationship,” he hums, “But you don’t deny the cheating part, Irene-ssi. Have you cheated on your previous partners?”

See, Wendy is a patient, logical, and rational person. And she knows it’s none of her business but she brings the microphone to her mouth—

Irene squeezes their hands together. Wendy’s tongue is itching to talk, but she ignores it. There’s a small pang in her chest that maybe Irene doesn’t trust her enough to handle this, but she brings the mic back down anyway. She squeezes their hands even tighter.

“Why do you care so much about my relationships?" A pause, "Never had one before?” Irene says this with an unmistakable fire and Wendy _understands_ — this was Irene’s battle.

This was her working against Murphy’s Law, or rather, this was her head-on against a shaggy old man.

He looks shaken, he probably did not predict that kind of response at all. Perhaps nobody in the room did, seeing as they all look shocked and speechless.

Did they expect Irene to stutter? To whimper? Too bad.

She’s faced so many years of conniving schemes and so many unkind people that she knows when they’re pulling at her strings.

Wendy immediately advances up at the silence, “Where do you work, Sir..” She trails off.

“…Lee.” The man answers, pulled out from his reverie and the old confidence is gone.

“Thank you, Mister Lee. I just had to ask because I want to personally extend my gratitude to your boss,” her voice is cheerful, she’s smiling from ear and ear and it irks Irene that the girl _actually_ looked ingenuous, “because their employees are so _dedicated_ to every detail.”

Wendy's performance is academy award worthy, because the man’s smile is returning. “SMT, Miss Son.”

Wendy nods smilingly, then ingrains in her brain that she needs to make a phone call as she knows well that the SMT CEO is in her contact list.

She casts a glance downward to her watch, “We’ve got eleven minutes to spare, but I would prefer if the rest email their questions instead.”

She hears a collective grunt and frankly, she couldn’t care less. All she knows is that she needs to make a phone call and that Irene’s hand is settling on hers.

She chuckles into the microphone, “Please stay until you’d like. Our chefs have prepared so much.”

She gestures to the back and the crew simultaneously open the dozens of serving trays.

The smell of food engulfs the room and Wendy’s mind takes note of the curry _._ Her stomach grumbles, then she hears the woman beside her giggle softly.

At a glance, she looks as _Irene_ as possible. Posture straight, expression cool, and an air of pristine and immaculate.

But Wendy sees beneath, so she beckons the woman to stand up and they bow together, “ _Thank you for coming.”_

.

They’re back at the private room and Wendy lets go of her hand. She picks up the nearest water bottle, uncaps it, and passes it to the other woman.

Irene accepts with a small smile, and drinks with so much poise that Wendy briefly wonders if she’s in a commercial.

“Are you okay?” She has to ask because Wendy thinks no one can walk away unmarked from a situation like that.

Irene ponders. _Am I?_

She’s not so sure. Because although she’s all-too-familiar with the judgment, it’s only now that her mind realizes more than half of the world saw that. And right now she’s probably a hot topic on Twitter and people are replaying the conversation, chewing over screen captures of Irene’s vulnerability on full display.

She hears the door open and her manager enters, “Joohyun-ah,” she knows that tone too well, and she’d rather not talk about it, not right now. She attempts to wave her hand in nonchalance, but she sees her fingers shaking slightly so she looks up at her manager instead. And she hopes her smile comes out okay.

Wendy was now at the far end of the room, in a hushed conversation with Rosé. Actually, it looks more like a one-sided argument.

Wendy’s mouth is deliberately moving as her hands are moving too, while her secretary’s lips are clamped shut, looking like she needs _saving._ Irene chuckles at the sight _(she finds herself in laughter when the CEO's around)_ and Wendy turns her gaze because she heard it. Despite the ambient noise of the crowd outside them, she hears her.

The CEO marches forward, now a couple of feet in front of the model, and she looks extremely nervous. _Cute,_ Joohyun thinks to herself.

 _“Wouldyouliketoeatoutwithme?”_ Wendy says it so quickly and all Irene heard was ‘eat’, ‘me’, and ‘out’, and the plausible sentence that those three words form doesn’t really sit right with her.

“Can you say it again?” She asks with another chuckle, “Slower this time.”

Wendy inhales _(there’s no courage in oxygen but sure),_ “I was asking if you’d maybe want to eat out with me? There’s this restaurant that Seulgi booked and it’s good.”

Wendy said it all in one breath _(ah, maybe that’s what the oxygen was for),_ and she’s readying her best revenge because her friend just set her up. She booked a private booth for two at Mr. E _,_ under Wendy’s name with Wendy’s credit card and the younger girl really shouldn’t care. But there’s a pricey cancellation fee and their steak and curry are _to die for_ , especially since it’s one of Seoul’s premier establishments.

“Miss Kang will be there?” Irene perks up and Wendy scrunches her nose and crosses her arm over her chest at the mention of her friend.

She simply shakes her head from left to right, because explaining the situation to Irene meant questions and Wendy wishes she had answers too. _(Kang Seulgi, when I see you, I swear to god or the gods that I will chokeslam you to dea_ —)

“You can go, Joohyun.” Irene’s manager stops her thoughts and Wendy turns to Jihyo questioningly.

“Does she have another schedule? I completely understand if she does.” She says this at full tilt and Jihyo immediately reassures, “No, there’s none for the rest of the day, Miss Son.”

Wendy lets out a shaky breath of relief.

“But she’s on IF.” Jihyo continues.

The model turns, gazes at the pair of Wendy's brown eyes, _uh, are they thinking of the same IF?_

“Intermolecular forces?” “Intermittent fasting.”

It’s quite obvious who said what, judging by Irene’s surprised and _very loud_ laugh, and how she’s repeatedly hitting Wendy’s shoulder.

Rosé, who was a few feet from the manager, looks like she’s suffering from second-hand embarrassment. _Did my boss just say that?_ While Jihyo’s lips are contorted into this weird shape that looks like it’s trying very hard to stop a laugh from coming out. 

Wendy just wishes for nothing but the earth to open up and swallow her whole, or that her initial predictions of the world ending because of an oxygen overshoot will happen _at this exact moment,_ because god, she’s _humiliated._

“Aww Wendy-ah,” Irene speaks up, a wide smile still on her features, “At least you had us at the first two syllables.”

And Irene laughs again, loud and hearty and Wendy decides she really needs to work on her game.

But right now, she likes this Irene. She likes the loud-ass laugh as much as much as the small, shy one.

And all she manages is a sigh. But it's different, there’s a smile on her face too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // mentions of death (it’s v short but still, please proceed with caution)

Wendy learns that the supermodel does a 20-4 IF _(intermittent. fasting.)_ where she doesn’t eat anything for twenty hours, and then she can eat everything she wants within that four-hour timeframe.

When Wendy asks, out of genuine curiosity ( _because how does anyone do that? As soon as she wakes up her stomach is bubbling)_ what the other girl would usually choose for her short chance at food, Irene answers her with nonchalance, “Hard-boiled eggs with a salad.” _A salad._

Wendy wonders how the girl is still alive. She looks over to said model in her passenger seat, who’s donning the same set of clothes she wore at the conference but with a black leather trench coat.

She turns her eyes back to the road and thinks that Irene looked healthy enough, so she shrugs evenly.

As her eyes scan the vicinity, she eases into a vacant parking space outside the restaurant. As soon she’s finished, she unbuckles her seatbelt and walks over to open the other door, precision in each of her steps.

“She’s rich, smart, and chivalrous. What’s the catch?” Irene asks teasingly. Wendy only smiles lopsidedly, then she shuts the door, pressing down on the lock button of her convertible.

Under the dim of the night sky, she notices Irene shiver. Seoul was indeed the coldest during February. So Wendy swiftly places her hand on the small of Irene’s back, hopes a bit of warmth radiates. The older girl snuggles closer, and oddly enough, the model fits perfectly in Wendy's arms.

A man pushes the restaurant door open and they’re escorted to their booth.

“I knew Miss Kang was kind, but I didn’t know she was this generous.” Irene says as her eyes are sifting through the menu. Even water was expensive.

“Does she owe you anything?” She inquires with a laugh, and Wendy thinks _yeah, an explanation._

But Wendy won’t say that out loud, opts to shake her head instead.

The woman in front of her shuts the boarded paper on her hands, then props both her elbows on the table. “You still don’t talk much, do you?” Wendy looks up from the wine list and sees the model is looking directly at her, face between her palms.

“Oh, sorry.” Wendy settles for an apology because she doesn’t really know what she should say. She wasn’t _not speaking_ on purpose, she just didn’t have anything to talk about.

“No need to apologize.” The model shrugs, “It’s an observation, not a judgment.”

Irene says it as her features are framed with an expression that looks so caring and lovely and Wendy just stares. She doesn’t get the older woman at all.

Sometimes she’s overconfident and arrogant, and then sometimes she looks so honest and vulnerable. One minute she’s fierce and taunting, and then on the other she’s soft and sincere.

Wendy really doesn’t get the model, and it makes her want to.

“So,” Wendy’s snapped out of her thoughts as the other woman leans back against her chair. “Do you plan on playing this staring game all night or are you going to order?”

Wendy rolls her eyes, _see what she means?_

A server comes in.

.

Wendy hums in delight as she sips from her _madeira terrantez_. In her head, she’s patting herself on the back. _Good choice, Wendy._

Irene giggles at the reaction, stirs the glass in her hands and drinks the wine too. Wendy gazes, as unnoticeable as possible, and she smiles when the other woman nods her head in silent approval.

The food arrives and Wendy tries to stifle a laugh. Just earlier she was worried Irene had been starving herself. Now, as she looks at the plates in front of them, she can’t help but comment jokingly, “There’s a monster you’re hiding in there.”

The older woman chuckles at the good-humored remark, “You’re the one who’s paying, I couldn’t resist.”

Wendy chuckles back at the woman’s straightforward response, and she casts her chopsticks toward the rib-eye steak. There was curry too, and pasta, and shrimp, and crab, and lamb, and there’s plenty more coming so Wendy’s sure, _absolutely certain_ , that she would come home to her apartment with lots of take-out.

They talk in between delicious bites and Wendy discovers they disagree on a lot of things. It started with the food, _“This is a bit bland” “It tastes just fine to me”,_ then it moves onto films, _“Excuse me, the breakfast club is iconic,”_ Wendy huffs.

“No, it was stereotypical and overrated.” Irene replies adamantly.

As the night grows deeper, their arguments grow too.

“Billy Joel is the best piano man, his writing and style is _totally_ more impressive.” Irene says before a mouthful of risotto and Wendy feels irritation bubble in her chest, _she will not accept this slander._

“Elton John is a better singer. Has better songs. Has better albums. And he’s definitely a better pianist.” Wendy enunciates her words with _venom_ and Irene has this small, nearly nonexistent smile playing on her lips.

Wendy’s positive the older girl enjoys seeing her so unsettled.

Before the model can form a proper response, her phone rings. Irene looks at the caller ID and picks it up quickly.

“Hey, is everything okay?” The teasing look on Irene’s face is all gone, her voice now laced with incredible concern.

She turns to Wendy with an apologetic look then faces backward, her hand slightly covering her mouth.

“I’m at Mr. E, do you need anything?” Although she couldn’t see the woman’s features clearly, she registers the movement of Irene picking her coat up then putting it back down.

“Sure, it’s A-3.” _Hm, that’s their booth number._

The call ends and Irene turns to face her again, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s all good.” Wendy assures firmly, shaking her head.

“I think my sister’s gonna drop by.” Wendy’s eyebrows raise to her hairline. _She was going to meet Irene's sister?_

“I’m not really sure because she ended the call so abruptly. But she asked where I was so..” Irene says and Wendy settles for a nod at the unfinished statement, she chooses to go back to her plate still full.

Irene sees an opening, a chance. She takes it.

“Can I ask you something?” Wendy tilts her head upward toward the other woman, her fork in mid-air. _Cute._ Then she nods again before biting on the food.

“That night, why didn’t you stay?”

This isn’t how Wendy pictured her death but she feels herself hanging on for dear life. _Literally._ As of the moment, she’s choking on her pasta noodles because as soon as the words came out of Irene’s mouth, her eyes widen all at once and she gasps involuntarily, thus her current _situation._

Irene is kind enough to hand her a glass of water _(even though she was the cause of the incident in the first place_ ) and as soon as she sees Wendy is breathing properly, she jeers at the younger girl.

“God, you’re acting like I asked you why I didn’t wake up to breakfast in bed.” Irene quips and Wendy’s internal panic subsides, _partially._

She thinks of all the valid answers, probability and mathematics but Wendy also thinks it’s not enough. Because she’s looking at the girl in front of her and knows the woman asks for honesty.

“My parents died that day.” Wendy admits, and slowly the other girl’s expression becomes morphed into vivid sadness. Before Wendy could think further, the words come out, “I felt guilty.” _Like I was using you,_ goes unspoken.

She stirs in her seat with discomfort, and Irene regrets even asking. The model was searching for the right words to say when Wendy continues with something long overdue, “I’m sorry.”

And the younger girl gazes into Irene’s brown orbs looking disheartened. So the model shakes her head strongly and tries to joke, “It’s okay, Wendy. I was just hoping for a phone number.”

Not a beat passes when she responds, “Can you hand me your phone then?” Wendy asks, still dejectedly, and Irene simply follows.

The girl in front of her quickly types up her number and hands the device back.

Irene hums, she tries again, “I just thought I wasn’t, you know,” she pauses, “up your standards.”

Wendy jolts at the statement. _Is she serious? Has she looked at herself in the mirror?_

Wendy notices the older woman, casually sipping at her wine glass, was hiding behind her smirk.

_Oh._

She realizes the other girl was poking fun again. Two can play at that game.

“How can you possibly say that,” Wendy props up her elbow and leans in closer, “when you have stars in your eyes?”

Irene’s defeaning laughter echoes inside their booth. Wendy feels accomplished.

.

She glances at her silver wristwatch, _9:48pm._ Wendy isn’t sure what time they arrived but she guesses they’ve been here for, more or less, two hours. There’s still loads of food on their table ( _because Wendy also ordered a few more after the server suggested other dishes)_ and they’re currently on their third wine.

Truthfully, Wendy was enjoying _a lot._ Aside from the exceptionally good food, talking to Irene felt natural and untaxing, and their conversation never wanes.

The disagreements were still there of course, but Wendy found herself double-thinking the stuff she thought she knew. Irene felt the same, especially when the older girl’s eyes would light up at what Wendy says.

Said girl excused herself to use the loo, so Wendy decides to check on her phone for the first time tonight.

Her notifications are highly familiar, emails, calendar reminders, stocks, then she peers over to her messaging app, sees their groupchat at the top.

Joy: **Seulgi-unnie, don’t you think someone would’ve been screaming at us by now?** 🤔  
Seulgi: **I don’t know Joy, maybe she’s having fun**  
Seulgi: **Don’t forget to use protection!!** 👀  
Joy: **[image attached]**

Wendy clicks on it and _of course,_ it’s a meme. Robert Downey Jr. was holding up a sign that says, _“I’m so fucking proud of you.”_

Wendy types up a response, _“Go fuck yourselves.”_ and hits send. Before she can add anything else, someone slides the door forcefully that it leaves a banging sound.

“Unnie!”

Wendy looks up and the female frowns, “You’re not my unnie.”

In a millisecond she speaks again, “Oh my god, you’re Son Seungwan!”

Wendy inspects the figure in front of her. Young, blonde, wearing a simple buttoned blouse with denim jeans and a faux fur jacket on her hands. Not that it’s relevant, but Wendy could tell the girl was well-off, especially because of the white gold piaget on her wrist. Wendy had the same one in her closet.

Going back, the point of her assessment was to recall if she had ever seen or encountered this lady in the past, and it’s a reverberating _no._

The girl comes nearer and starts to clap her hands excitedly, “I’ve read all your papers and I’m actually working on your recommendations as my thesis! I’ve watched your homecoming speech so many times, it’s so good!”

Wendy wills herself not to blush and fiddles with her hands instead, “Thank you.”

She says it in such a small voice, she isn’t quite sure if the girl heard her.

“Shit, so the rumors are true.” Wendy looks up at that, _which one?_ “You’re terribly humble. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The CEO finds her cheeks growing pink even if she isn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult, “Uh, thanks?”

The girl pulls on the vacant chair at the corner of the room and sits beside Wendy, “I was working on your CRISPR genetic scissoring and I really think it deserves more recognition. The fact that you included DNA reparation—”

Wendy doesn’t know the girl at all, not even her first name, and yet she decides she likes her already. She feels the wind of passion flooding from the girl in front of her, with the enthusiasm and animated hand gestures and sparkling eyes.

Honestly, if you ask Wendy what she thinks the world needs the most, it would be people like the young girl in front her. People who cared more, who didn’t scale down their pursuits regardless of how “uncool” it would make them look.

Because in a time where the world is half-alive and full of shit, we need one less person who’s indifferent.

“—well, long story short, I’m working on what it lacks.” Wendy’s brows furrow, what exactly was that? What was lacking?

Before she can mouth her question, Irene enters their room.

“Yah, Kim Yerim!” The model exclaims, and beside her, the girl runs to hug Irene, “Joohyun-unnie!”

 _Holy f_ _u—_ _._ This was Joohyun’s sister? _How?_

Irene moves away and looks at Yerim pointedly, “Why are you here?”

“I called you, remember?” Yerim responds, her voice still cheerful.

“You did, but you didn’t say you’d come by.”

“What else would I do with that information? I’m not a slam book.” Yerim quips and Irene flicks her forehead, the younger girl flinches away in pain.

“Yah! I’m still your unnie!”

Wendy watches the scene in front of her in disbelief. There’s a Bae and there’s a Kim, but apparently they’re siblings and one is a supermodel while the other is continuing Wendy’s chemistry paper. This is _refreshing._

“Anyway, _unnie_ , you won’t believe it! I just met Son Seung—“ Yerim turns her gaze to the CEO, the words dying in her throat. She turns her head back to the older girl, alternately staring between Wendy and Irene then she breathes out a scandalized gasp.

“Are you dating _the_ Wendy Son?” Irene doesn’t answer and Wendy’s jaw slacks, her face roaring with _what the fuck? Why aren’t you saying anything?_

Irene laughs at the reaction she so purposefully elicited, but then she starts letting out painful gruntles. “And you,” Yerim hits her arm, “didn’t”, hits her again, “bother” another hit, “to tell me!” Pack it up, folks. It’s K.O.

Irene’s skin was visibly redder and not long after, she starts to pull at the lobe of Yerim’s ear, forcing her to sit down.

With a pout, Yerim is now massaging the injured part. “Will you please behave yourself?” Joohyun exasperates, “I was teasing, we aren’t seeing each other like that.”

“Why the hell not?” Yerim responds loudly, then she whispers _(which might as well have been a shout),_ “She’s perfect, unnie!”

Wendy feels her cheeks blush again before Irene folds her arms unfazed, still facing her younger sister.

“Yerim, why exactly are you here?” She quizzes with an unshakeable amount of seriousness.

“Because I miss you?”

“Ha. Very funny.”

Yerim sighs, her voice subdues low. “ _Omma_ told me to ask if you were going to come home for her birthday.”

Irene’s gaze changes, it steels into an ice cold look that frightens the shit out of Wendy. _I will never, ever, want to be the cause of that._

“You knew what the answer was before you even called.” Irene says sharply, teeth grinding.

A beat.

“That’s true, unnie.” Yerim clicks her tongue, “But at least I tried.”

She moves to stand up, places a hand over her unnie’s shoulder.

“I hope one day you find it in yourself to try, too.”

Irene takes a deep breath and shakes the younger girl’s hand away. Yerim simply waves goodbye, seemingly used to this rejection. She faces Wendy with a smile and shuts the door behind her. The CEO feels the question still lodged in her throat, but she thinks that could wait.

Right now, Wendy looks at the girl in front of her and she hates the way misery is lined on Irene’s face, hates the tears glistening in Irene’s eyes.

And Wendy really isn’t good at _comforting_ people. The last time someone had opened up to her directly about their worries and struggles was way back in college. Wendy simply nodded her head from time to time, and then the said person finishes by telling her they probably needed to see a therapist soon, and perhaps Wendy knew one.

So naturally, Wendy recommended the _best_ one she knows. She wanted to help. A few days later, her phone is flooded with a string of profanities and says Wendy better not show her face ever again.

When she asked Seulgi what she did wrong, the girl doubles in laughter. _Oh._ The guy meant a psychiatrist, not a massage therapist.

So, Wendy doesn’t really know what to say and a few moments of silence fall between them before she decides to speak up, “Do you want to, uh, talk about it?”

The other woman looks up at an obviously agitated and jittering CEO, so she giggles a bit and shakes her head. “Just,” Irene breathes, “ask me something else.” She smiles, albeit a strained one.

Wendy feels herself melt inside her skull, digging through her brain for the _best_ possible question.

“How many positive integers will satisfy the inequality x cube—”

“You’re insufferable.” Irene rolls her eyes good-naturedly, she’s laughing now and Wendy knows it’s genuine.

It becomes a comfortable quiet that surrounds them, and Wendy assesses it’s probably a good time to bring up what’s been slightly, _mildly,_ bugging her.

“What really happened with the Jackson guy?”

Irene’s perfectly-shaped eyebrows shoot up again, but Wendy shrugs, she’s curious is all. The other girl wasn’t _required_ to answer.

“I’m impressed you’ve only asked now.” Irene comments with a shit-eating smirk, chin above her palm.

Wendy interjects smugly, “Seeing as how often I leave you ‘impressed’, you’ll be asking for an autograph soon.”

Irene chortles because that was _so_ out of character, it wasn’t like Wendy at all and the younger girl recognizes this too, as she’s evidently cringing from her own remark.

“We were friends,” Irene starts, and Wendy leans in with undivided attention, “He was nice and we met during shows and shoots.”

Irene remembers feeling glad, _elated_ at the mere prospect of having someone in the industry who wanted to get to know her not for the sex nor to spread foul rumors, someone who just wanted a friend.

And Irene likes to think she wasn’t reckless or naïve or _stupid_ , people are just inclined to change their minds.

“Then he said he wanted more, you know,” she starts inspecting her short nails, “a relationship.”

She looks up at Wendy, sees the girl urging her to continue with an expression free of judgement. So Irene does exactly that, “I couldn’t give it to him. But he tried _very_ hard, it just.. wasn’t there.”

Irene doesn’t really know what the “it” is, the spark? The feelings? She chews on her lips, “So I wasn’t surprised when one day he yells at me and walks away with anger.” _And it wasn’t just his heart that was breaking._

Because Irene knows it was her fault, that if there was anything wrong, it was with her; and her heart breaks at the collateral damage she causes.

Wendy presses on the red button on their table. A man dressed in a white bowtie enters, “Can you get us one more of this?” She points to the _sauvignon blanc_ and Irene chuckles.

“Make that two.” The model adds.

.

They don’t get to finish even half of the first bottle, because they’re being kicked out. The restaurant closes at midnight, they were already thirteen minutes past and the workers are _exhausted,_ so the pair leave apologetically and Wendy never forgets to give a generous tip.

Wendy offers the model a ride, knows she’s very much sober enough to take the girl home safely. She drives in moderate speed, basking in the Seoul wind as the older woman suggests they should set her bentley’s rooftop down.

Wendy turns her head and she feels _it_ again, that warmth that swells and envelopes her as she stares at Irene, watching how her face is illuminated by the neon lights of the establishments they pass by and all the glow of the colors against her milky skin — _fuck._ She’s gorgeous.

.

It was bound to happen.

Wendy knew it would end up like this.

As Irene straddles her on the couch, lips biting down her neck and hands pressing down beneath her top, Wendy feels magic spread through her body.

Irene invited her up, says she couldn’t possibly finish the wine by herself. Wendy’s mind was echoing _must. resist. you have. self-control._ but she nods anyway, parks her car, and they’re here. Bodies pressing against each other as she’s cupping the other girl’s jaw on her plump couch, kissing Irene’s even plumper lips and _fuck._ Wendy feels delirious.

She vaguely remembers their sex in the past and all the ones she fucked after that, but Wendy doesn’t think anything’s quite as intense as this — the heat, the want, the feeling of Irene’s lips on hers _._

And they were just _kissing._ _Jesus Chri—_

Irene pulls away abruptly and Wendy’s face trails after hers, involuntarily seeking the red lips. Her eyes flutter open and the both of them are gasping for air, “You owe me.”

It takes Wendy a moment to understand just what the other woman meant, then her mouth upturns to the right. She stands, lifting Irene from the couch.

“Bedroom. Now.”

In the past, Wendy came four times, Irene only thrice.

Now, it takes all of the older woman’s strength to stop her knees from buckling, holding onto the headboard of her bed with all her might. The younger girl clasps Irene's thighs for support, eats her out from underneath, and Joohyun moans into oblivion, _god. That’s so good. More. P-please. Seungwan I’m gonna—_

And it was just the first round.

.

“That was…” Irene says, still catching her breath.

 _Fucking good,_ Wendy thinks. She’s long lost count of how many times the older woman unravels beneath her, lost count of how many times she did too.

All she knows is there’s a mess of discarded clothes on the woman’s room and they’re lying beside each other in a state of undress, and her veins are still thrumming with anticipation.

“What time is it?” The older girl asks, staring into the ceiling above them feeling light-headed. The world is slowly going back to its original state, but it was once a blur of fingers scratching and tongues sliding. Irene still wants _more._

Wendy shrugs, licks her lips in a grin, “I don’t really care.”

The model takes it as her hint, clamps her mouth over the Seungwan’s and sucks the life out of it.

.

It was bound to happen, and Wendy would be lying if she says she didn’t want this.

She’s leaning against the headboard and checks her watch on the bedside table, _3:48am._ She’ll have to attend a bi-monthly board meeting in exactly five hours and twelve minutes.

Wendy knows she needed to leave, get some sleep, and take a bath. But smooth sheets and even smoother skin was a lethal yet heavenly combination, especially they both belonged to the woman whose arms are wrapped around Wendy’s waist, breathing on her neck.

A low laugh then erupts from her throat at the realization that her fingers are numb, sore from all the pumping and gripping. _It was worth it though,_ but she will never say that out loud.

“Why are you laughing?” Irene inquires weakly, voice muffled against Wendy’s skin and it tickles the CEO, feeling a faint rush of goosebumps.

“My hand is sore.” Wendy snorts. The ‘I _t’s your fault’_ doesn’t need to be said.

Irene’s body moves away _(Wendy immediately misses the warmth but she will also never admit that),_ and the older woman grasps Wendy’s right hand with both of hers’, then proceeds to look at the younger girl with astonishment in her eyes.

“You need to have these hands sculpted, Seungwan. They work wonders.” Irene says it with so much conviction and it’s _damn adorable_ but Wendy isn’t swooning. Really, she isn’t.

“This is how your pillow talks go?” She laughs and Irene lets go of her hand, but elbows are still propped up looking at Wendy.

“No,” the model giggles. _Adorable, I’m telling you._ “I usually fall asleep or get dressed.”

In an instant Wendy asks, “Do you want me to go?”

Irene smiles, albeit a small one. Then shakes her head and sifts her hands through the other woman's soft, blonde hair, “Ask me something.”

There’s this thing, this feeling that’s so peculiar yet attractive about how Irene understands that Wendy isn’t much of a talker, and it doesn’t come off as a problem. In fact, it’s an intricacy that’s so _natural_ , like Wendy could listen to her endlessly regardless of what the older woman was talking about. And although she fails to realize it, her heart lowers too, feels herself sharing a fair amount of stories and finds that it isn’t bothering her at all.

It’s accidental, like _that_ night. But at the same time, Wendy thinks it’s a conscious choice.

“You believe in fate?”

Irene’s eyes widen, asking her back pointedly, “Do you?”

She wonders if it’s going to be one of their heated debates again. About fate. At 4am.

Wendy scoffs, “Of course not. I only believe in the math.” _The probability._

Irene hums, both in understanding and relief, “I don’t too.”

She’s been asked in so many interviews if she thought she was born to be a supermodel. Every single time, her brows furrow impossibly close and she answers with a straightforward _'No.'_

She thinks no one’s birthed into the world and is instantly set up to become whoever they are right now. Although circumstance and privilege play as huge factors, your life isn’t a guarantee and there aren’t foreseeable versions of it on a crystal ball. Hour by hour, minute by minute, it’s your choices and its consequences that determine your being.

And yes, that makes you accountable. But it also makes you capable of achievement, despite everything that stands in the way.

“Can I have Yerim’s number?” Wendy asks abruptly and Irene look at her with skepticism, daggers in her eyes like she didn’t trust Wendy with those eleven digits.

Wendy sees, so she immediately butts in, “Before you came in the room she was talking about my research and she looked genuinely interested and I was interested too and then she said there was something lacking—” she says it all in one breath then her voice starts to whisper low, like it was a secret, “—and I want to know what it is.”

Irene bursts into laughter and Wendy pouts at that, recognizes that she’s been found out. She crosses her arms.

“You realize you’re a millionaire CEO, right?” Irene snorts, “And she’s a kid in college.”

“She said something was lacking!” Wendy complains and sinks into the bed, her lips curving further.

“Oh my god, you’re like a third-grader.” Irene responds, stuck between rolling her eyes or letting out a huge laugh.

She searches the bed for Wendy’s phone instead, and when she feels the metal device in her hands, she types in her sister’s number.

“You have it memorized?” Irene hums absentmindedly, locks the device when she's done and tosses it aside.

She points a finger to the younger woman, raising her voice slightly, “Be nice to her, okay?” _She adores you._

Wendy uncrosses her arms and nods in silent obedience. Irene smiles, then drops her head back onto her pillow.

“She’s quite the character, isn’t she?” Irene states, a wistful and reflective look in her eyes.

“Yeah, she’s,” Wendy pauses, thinking of the right word, “passionate.”

Irene beams in appreciation, “I was worried at first, that maybe she was studying like that because it’s what mother wanted for her.”

Wendy shifts to the older girl’s direction, tilts her head forward to listen closely.

“But that little shithead said to me, _‘Unnie, just because our dreams are different doesn’t mean mine isn’t important.’"_

Irene says it with a scoff, but she’s staring at the ceiling dewy-eyed, as if it’s a memory she carved in the deepest parts of her mind.

“We were a lot closer, before.” She exhales, voice low, “When we were younger.”

Irene remembers it vividly, her first heartbreak.

Her father had died of cancer — it begins in your lungs and with every pack of cigarette you smoke, the chances of developing the cancer increases too. It wasn’t rocket-science, so Irene wasn’t surprised when one day her dad gushes out blood, complains about tremendous chest pain.

Four days after, he died. But that wasn’t what broke her heart. Her father was rarely home, they almost never talked. His voice was rough in a way that made Joohyun quiver in fear, but he paid for their bills so she never complained.

What broke little Joohyun was that her mom had just lost the love of her life, and the next day her mother had to go job-hunting, smiling from ear-to-ear as if she hadn’t suffered from the other half of her heart suddenly no longer beating.

Joohyun didn’t understand at the time, how her mom could love and rely on a man like her father, but Joohyun didn’t need to. All she knows is that the older woman still leaves a space for him on the bed, and so young Joohyun hugs her gently; that although she can’t fill the void that was left, she hopes she can help her mother live with it.

Joohyun was eight then, and Yerim was six months old. She was praised to be smart _(albeit her school was small),_ so her mother didn’t have to worry about tuition anymore. Through time, Joohyun had even been earning in secret, joining all sorts of competitions — singing, dancing, pageant shows, spelling bees — and with every little prizemoney she won, she would sneak into a cleaned, emptied can of powdered milk. It was their so-called ‘emergency fund’, which would always end up depleted because Yerim gets sick often.

Every moment was a lesson for Joohyun to be independent, because that was the only option she had left. She couldn’t spend time with friends after school _(not that she had many)_ because she needs to get home on the dot, or else no one would watch over and take care of Yerim as her mother leaves for work.

Eventually, she gets used to the struggle, and things get easier. Yerim grows older and they discover she’s far more intelligent than Joohyun is. Her _dongsaeng_ qualifies for interschool academic competitions, even gets her name published on their local newspaper. Joohyun and her mom beam with pride, and the younger girl doesn’t have to apply for scholarships, it’s handed to her on a silver platter.

And Joohyun never felt incomplete, despite not having a father figure. Contrary to the pitiful looks she got on her high school graduation — only her mom to escort her on stage, with the widest smile adorning the older woman’s face — she had never felt fuller in her life. So, Joohyun promises to make sure that Yerim would never feel incomplete, too. She gives her space to discover what she wants, allows her to make mistakes, but always reminds the younger one that she’s there. That Joohyun will always be there.

For a while, it stood true.

She was sitting on a metal bench, clad in a denim jumper while patiently waiting for her bus to arrive. It was her first year in college and she sighs at the thick modules in her hands. Mechanical engineering was hard, but her mother repeatedly embedded in her brain, made sure Irene understood, that it was the only way they could survive in this world.

A voice startled her, “I’m Tiffany Young”, and proceeds to pull out a 4-by-2 calling card.

It read: **“Magnetic Modelling Agency (MMA)”** , and as Joohyun scans the woman in front of her, with an expensive-looking pink handbag and pink jumpsuit, she was beckoned to follow.

And here’s the thing, back then, Joohyun still didn’t believe in fate. But she thinks she must have done something so right in her past life to come across such blessed luck.

It took her two months of training, juggling between her classes and hiding the modeling from her mother, until she conducts her first official runaway show. Tiffany drives her home that day and Joohyun runs to their door, sees her mom and Yerim eating rice and soup and she grins, waving her newly-earned wad of cash.

As she finishes talking about her first gig, all the beautiful things she saw outside Daegu and all the kind people she met, she feels her heart prickle at her mother’s words: _“You must not let this get in the way of your studies.”_ There’s a light in Joohyun that flickers, but she nods and her mother walks away.

But twelve-year-old Yerim tackles her in a hug, goes on to say “ _I’m so proud of you unnie!_ _Go buy me pretty clothes now!”_ And Joohyun spreads her arms wide with a laugh.

Months pass and as project offers increase, her pay increases too, and all of it goes to the family account she made for the three of them. But everything’s also starting to take a toll on her health, so Joohyun makes a choice.

She doesn’t return to university for her third year, and as her chance at a college degree vanishes, so does her speaking relationship with her mother. But Joohyun learns to live with that, learns to sleep peacefully even in different countries, knowing that her mother no longer had to keep fighting for life’s battlefield. That she could wake up not worrying about their utilities; _omma_ could freely watch Netflix, drink coffee with friends (or even lovers), and Joohyun learns to be okay.

Years go by and she rushes home from the airport with good news, what her management calls _the biggest news in her entire existence_. She turns the key in, dragging her luggage in her other hand, but she’s the one surprised with an announcement — her mother is remarrying.

A well-looking man, dressed in a navy blue suit and who’s cologne was dizzying Irene, stands up from his chair to greet her. She walks over to him, thanks him for taking care of her mother, and the night ends with “ _I’m look forward to all of you to becoming my family."_

Their front door closes and her mother gazes fondly at her diamond ring, says they’ll need to take care of all the papers soon — transitioning from _Bae_ to _Kim._ Irene frowns slightly, says she’ll have to consult with her management.

She was just starting to make a name for herself, where she was referred to as _‘The Bae’._ And Irene thinks, _knows_ , that changing her surname so suddenly would induce an effect.

It’s been long since her mother has talked to her, but the older woman turns to her directly and begins with, “There’s really something wrong with that head of yours, Joohyun.”

Her mother says with so much _vile_ that Irene performs a double-take, some corner of her mind would like to believe that she didn’t hear that correctly. But her mother continues.

“This man is our only chance at a better life! Have some respect!”

And if Joohyun’s first heartbreak was for her mother, the second one was caused by her. She thinks about all the sacrifices, how her feet hurt from standing in five-inch heels because she wasn’t tall enough. She thinks about how tired and hungry and _lonely_ she was, working fourteen hours straight and yet she didn’t eat because she simply could not _afford_ looking bloated.

She remembers how exhausting it was. Pretending it didn’t hurt when people would say she wasn’t anything special and how it would hurt even more that she had no one to rant about it to, no one to console her and sympathize with her. Because Yerim was young and hopeful, and her mother was angry. She remembers nearly giving up — worn down piece by piece leaving her weary and uninspired.

And every time, she remembers her mother, endures all of it to give her anything — _everything_ she could dream of. And she watches the older woman throw it all away, invalidate all of it with a few words.

So that night, Joohyun doesn’t sleep, cradles her shattered heart and aching soul as she packs her bags again. Yerim knocks, enters the room, and asks where her unnie is off to this time. Joohyun smiles, the most authentic one she can pull off, _“I’m the opener for New York Fashion Week, Yerim-ah.”_

And Yerim envelopes her in a hug again, eyes happy and jumping with glee, _My unnie’s a bigshot now!_

Her phone rings and it’s Tiffany, she walks out the door with the flickering light in her now dying down.

Yerim was under the impression her unnie stays in New York for a week. It’s been two, Joohyun still hasn’t come home. A month later, Yerim asks where the older girl was staying, and she says she bought an apartment in Seoul. Again, Yerim is happy, _beyond proud_ of her unnie.

A few months after, Yerim tells her they’re in Seoul too. She got accepted in SNU for biomedical engineering, and that she’s Kim Yerim now.

Irene meets up with her in a café near her university, and Yerim laughs at the failed attempts of fellow students to _discreetly_ take pictures of her unnie. Irene relishes in that laugh, and she wants to say so many things and ask so many questions but she knows where she stands, knows she’s unworthy after leaving Yerim all alone with an unkept promise.

So she settles for what she thinks is most important, “Yerim-ah, are you happy with what you’re doing?”

And Yerim responds with utmost passion and finality, she is. And that just because her dreams are different from Joohyun’s doesn’t make them any less valuable, any less important.

Joohyun feels her heart mend slowly, and Yerim shows her an indisputable truth: there is always more love that we are capable of giving, more hope that we are capable of having. Because from that moment on, Yerim tries. She goes to see Joohyun in her apartment, sends her memes and life updates and her pop culture references.

And some days Joohyun ponders on the promise she failed to fulfill and she doesn’t feel as guilty, because Yerim didn’t need her to feel complete, her younger sister was whole on her own.

But on some days too, Yerim also reminded her of the guilt, how Joohyun's heart had been chipped away that day. Yerim talks about _omma_ and Irene puts her guard up, defenses riling. She never allows herself to talk about it, because she starts to go through the emotions all over again, beaten down and defeated, and she starts to feel what she hates the most — _regret._

So whenever it’s brought up, Joohyun walks away from it, quietly, slowly, and shows no indication of stopping.

But until now, Yerim still tries.

Yerim _tries,_ even though Joohyun has long stopped.

“I—“, Wendy pauses, deliberate hesitance lining every inch of her features. She’s racking her brain for the right words and it takes all of her effort to pick but she comes up with nothing. Her brain is scrambling with _I understand. I know. But I’m scared you’ll regret it._ And she doesn’t want to ruin the night (or the morning), but Joohyun is looking at her expectantly after baring her heart and Wendy—

“ _Seungwan,_ spit it out already.” The older woman’s staring at her and Wendy feels a burn in her bloodstream, like it’s ripping her apart.

“I told you my parents died that day.”

Irene sits up and leans her head back too. They’re side by side now.

“I just—” Wendy can’t say it. Because the last time she ever talked to anyone about the sorrow and guilt that slither under her skin and wounded her in ways that never seem to heal, it was with _her._ And she left. Wendy can’t distinguish what the bigger mistake is.

But Joohyun clasps Wendy's hands, soft and slender fingers filling the spaces between them, so the CEO settles on what she can without trembling in pain.

“I’m scared you’ll regret it.” _Because I did._

Wendy regrets not saying those three words enough, not saying thank you enough, not picking up their calls, forgetting the messages she wanted to pass on when she still had the chance to.

And Wendy’s smart enough to understand that we really don’t get the privilege of knowing if our choices will be right or wrong before we make them. But Joohyun still has a chance. And Wendy wants her to take it.

“I am, too.” Joohyun replies so solemnly, so very quietly, that Wendy can’t say anything else.

She doesn’t want to think anymore. And Joohyun doesn’t, too.

So their lips meet halfway in a kiss, hands still clasped together. It’s softer, sweeter, and much more hypnotic.

Wendy lets go, now slipping her hands beneath the women’s thighs and lifts her onto her lap, parting their lips. For a moment, they’re just staring at each other and Wendy feels _it_ again — a wave of warmth unfurling all her senses.

Joohyun leans back down, and Wendy sighs into the kiss. Long, deep, and gut-wrenching, and it manages to silence all her thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i read all your comments and i just want to thank you all so much 🥺
> 
> feel free to leave your thoughts and you can reach out to me on twitter too! @/siztrv


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i miss wenrene and i miss the girls 😭 and i know y'all do too so here's 8k worth of fluff (i guess? i'm not sure)
> 
> enjoy!

Wendy hears her familiar ringtone, cupping the bed for the device with eyes still half-shut. She answers it in an instant, not caring who the caller was just so the woman beside her, curled comfortably under the covers, wouldn’t wake up.

 _“SON SEUNGWAN WHERE THE HE—”_ The line cuts. Wendy pulls away to peer at the screen, it’s pitch-black and she concludes it probably ran out of battery.

As warm, rhythmic breath ghosts near her jaw and arms are wrapped around her waist, Wendy feels herself about to drift off again when she remembers why Seulgi was shouting so early in the morning. _The board meeting._

She stirs, as quietly and carefully as possible, and pulls away from Joohyun’s hold. She reaches over to her watch and wears it, _8:19am._ Alright, no need to panic. She could still take a quick shower and make it in time, she just needs to find her damn underwear first.

Then Wendy checks herself on the full-body mirror, the blotches of red right above her collarbone stinging a little. She makes a mental note to wear a turtleneck and shoots back at the woman lying on the bed, breathing even and soft black hair messily resting above her bare shoulder.

Wendy comes closer, pulls up the duvet over the older girl and she sighs at the thought that again, she couldn’t stay.

But Wendy thinks that just means she has to make it up to her, that there will definitely be a next time. 

.

Joohyun wakes up two hours later and with no one nestled beside her. She tries to ignore the slight constricting in her chest that _Seungwan_ had left again, but she sees a receipt so neatly placed underneath the bedside lamp, written with disordered handwriting.

 _Sorry for not staying again  
_ _I had a meeting I was  
_ _running late to_

_Dinner instead? Text me_

A certain amount of silence stretches, and Joohyun just can’t seem to turn her gaze away from the small sheet of paper _—_ she feels grateful? Touched? The feeling was unutterable, wrestling inside of her. The CEO had a knack of smoothing out her edges, making the air in Joohyun's lungs feel different. It wasn’t suffocating no, just _different._

She notices the bottom right part was folded, so she flips it over squinting in the process.

_P.S. You snore_

She rolls her eyes then she stands to flip her curtains wide open. It was a sunny day and Joohyun was a watcher of the skies; for a while, she revels in the gathering clouds. It looked much brighter now, like the light was heralding something new.  
  
She heads for the shower, but she doesn't forget to safely tuck the receipt at the bottom of her drawer.

.

Wendy enters and everyone stands on their feet, all eyes on her. She grabs the chair at the head of their conference table and that air of authority is unmarked. But it wasn't merely brought by her position as the head of the company, but by a level of perennial intellect and skill. She pulls her seat in and gestures for everyone to follow.

As soon as the lights turn off, signaling the start of the meeting, Seulgi whispers to her in mock irritation, “You’re late.”

“No, I’m on time.” Wendy points out, taps on the silver at her wrist, _9:00am._

Seated across Seulgi, Joy butts in on them cheekily, “But you said on time was late.”

“Yeah Seungwan, _on time is late_.” Seulgi nudges Wendy with her elbow, eyes dancing with amusement.

Wendy nudges her back harder, with full force, and the office chair spins as Seulgi tries to balance herself, the sound of her heels resonating within the room. Heads turn toward the corporate manager, who awkwardly coughs in her hand and straightens her posture.

The meeting resumes accordingly, but not without Seulgi glaring at Wendy's feeble efforts to hide a grin and Joy’s stifled snickering.

.

Joohyun steps out, drying her hair with a towel and her body wrapped up in the smell of a freshly laundered and fluffy purple robe she chanced upon in france a month ago.

She reaches down to pick her phone up from the carpeted floor, then she frowns at a tiny bump on the edge near the camera, perhaps a testament to how careless and feverish last night truly was.

She shrugs, showing no sign of resentment. And as her fingers fumble searching for the new contact name, she finds herself grinning, feeling _it_ growing stronger, her insides wrapped with warmth.

.

As soon as the presentation ends, Wendy ventures from beside the window, her device plugged on the corner socket was now displaying _100%_. She detaches it from the cord and scrolls down to see a new message:

 **_I don’t snore you liar._ ** ****

Wendy chuckles, lips biting as she forms a response,

**_First you have stars in your eyes, now you can hear yourself sleep?_ **

She hits send, smiling bright and toothy as she slides the device to the pocket of her blazer. The room becomes relatively emptier, steps were fading away but Wendy feels a _win_ approaching.

.

“So, unnie,” Joy starts, sweet and sour pork in her mouth. “How was the dinner?”

The three are once again huddled in her office, eating their noontime meal.

Wendy narrows her eyes at the two friends in front of her, “You guys are up to something.”

Joy simply shrugs, “Again unnie, how was the dinner?”

Wendy replies curtly, “It was fun.” Joy raises an eyebrow, shooting her a look that says _I went out of my way to book you that reservation and you answer me with ‘It was fun.’_

She looks up then groans, “It was awesome, the food was good and the company was even better.” Wendy squeezes the back of her neck and exhales, “Happy now?”

Joy laughs, bites into a spoonful of rice before saying, “It’s Seulgi-unnie’s turn.”

“What the hell, why am I being investigated? _I_ should be _the one_ asking questions _—_ "

Seulgi interrupts her, “Seungwan _—”_

“What?”

“ _—_ How’s the sex?”

Wendy blinks because _did she just?_ then she catches Seulgi’s eyes, the older girl who is very casually sipping from her soda can, not minding the highly affronted look on Wendy’s face.

Joy chimes in, “Don’t bother denying, unnie.” She rolls her eyes and continues, “Your neck looks molested.”

Wendy feels her bare skin and _fuck._ She forgot the turtleneck part. _Think, think, think,_ she has to find a way out of this.

“If you’re thinking of changing the topic, don’t even.” Seulgi retorts, laughing at Wendy’s obviously flustered state.

Wendy inhales a slow breath and concedes.

“I-it’s good.” At the sight of Joy’s devilish grin Wendy knows there’s more, and she tries her best to conceal the heat rumbling at the pit of her stomach, away from her friends’ prying eyes.

“C’mon unnie, you’re smarter than that. Give us a number _—_ ” then Seulgi continues for the youngest, “ _—_ ten as the highest, one as the lowest.”

Wendy isn’t religious at all but she hopes, _prays,_ to all the gods and goddesses and deities for a divine intervention because she really cannot handle. this. conversation.

The pair burst out in loud laughter, “Oh my god it’s a whopping ten.” Joy chokes out in between laughs.

Wendy huffs, arms crossing over her chest and ignoring the way her face is burning, “Go fuck yourselves.”

.

It’s been hours and Wendy still hasn’t received a text back. Not that she’s anticipating, or waiting, or expecting, for a reply. She isn’t. She’s just scrolling through her phone aimlessly.

Then Wendy sees the new contact, _right!_

**_Hello, Yerim. This is Son Seungwan._ **

Wendy waits a couple more seconds and there’s still no response. She breathes exasperatedly, as far as she knew the inability to respond wasn’t a hereditary trait. Genetics was never her field of expertise but Wendy’s pretty sure Gregor Mendel will support her in these claims _—_

Her ringtone startles her.

_“Hey, Seungwan.”_

Wendy grins at the caller’s voice, “Hi.”

_“Are you free later?”_

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have asked you out for dinner if I wasn’t.” She replies. _And you didn’t respond to me,_ goes unspoken.

The woman on the other line chuckles, _“Right, but I was thinking maybe a bit earlier?”_

“How early?”

_“Like, in an hour.”_

Wendy feels her breath hitch, stares at hundreds of unread emails, unsigned documents on her desk, and file boxes to be revisited on her office shelf.

But before she can think thoroughly she blurts it out, mentally slapping herself in the process, “Okay.”

And the other woman gasps, complaining half-heartedly, _“I was hoping you’d decline”_

“Why?” Wendy asks, “What are we supposed to do?”

There's a pause, and Wendy hears feet shuffle from her end of the line. “I _need you to help me bake cookies.”_ Irene says it so gently and Wendy would’ve talked about how endearing it sounded if she wasn’t so worried about the request.

“Joohyun,” a sigh, “I don’t know how.” Wendy confesses.

Cooking was never her forte, especially when she used to have parents that could make canned fish taste luxurious. Then when she got to college, microwaveable rice and cafeteria food were her staples. Eventually, going back to Korea and starting a business from scratch also meant frequent convenience store hauls, trips to halmeoni’s, and _her._

 _“That’s impossible, you’re a chemist.”_ Irene remarks teasingly.

Wendy chuckles before she asks, again out of genuine curiosity, “Why are you baking in the first place?”

A silence extends and Wendy would have assumed the line was cut if not for the other woman’s breathing.

 _“It would be rude to come empty-handed.”_ Irene finally responds, her voice tight.

Wendy doesn’t understand, to what occasion would you be going that a world-renowned model would want to personally bake cookies? She’s smart but she really can’t figure it out on her own, so she swallows the lump in her throat.

“To where, exactly?”

Irene’s voice cracks, _“Omma’s birthday.”_

Wendy’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and her eyes are about to pop out because she did not expect that. _At all._ And her heart is beating fast at the base of her throat because it was there _—_ the prospect of Joohyun grabbing a chance that Wendy had let slip between her fingers.

She has a lot of questions but she doesn’t really care anymore, “Do you have ingredients yet?”

 _“Duh,”_ the older girl answers in mock-annoyance, _“That’s why we’re meeting in an hour.”_

And what Irene said wasn’t even funny but Seungwan laughs, laughs so hard and so happily that there’s tears in her eyes and Joohyun laughs along too.  
  
.

They decided to meet in thirty minutes and Wendy drives thru for bubble tea, then swings by Irene’s apartment.

And now as she pulls into the parking lot of the supermarket, she hears the model slurping up the last few drops of her gong cha, creating noisy sucking sounds in the car. Wendy snorts _(she only had two sips before the older woman seized the drink_ ) and Irene retaliates with, “Oh please, you could buy their whole franchise if you wanted to.”

Wendy laughs, _that’s true_ , and swiftly takes the emptied drink in the other woman’s hand and replaces it with her phone.

“Search for the recipe you like, so we’ll be quick when we’re inside.” Wendy tells her, stretching out to reach a baseball cap from the backseat. Although the model was dressed in casual clothes _—_ an all-black set of tank top, leggings, and sneakers, body covered by a crème-colored cardigan _—_ she still looked as Irene as ever and that meant drop-dead gorgeous.

Wendy couldn’t risk an ambush or hormonal fanboys asking for pictures, so she hoped to make their trip as short as possible.

But the woman returns the device to the CEO, “You pick, I trust you.”

And Wendy would have sneered at that slothful excuse, but Joohyun says it matter-of-factly, blinking at her with those doe-like eyes; so Wendy finds herself believing.

.

_Sodium bicarbonate is a key ingredient in making cookies, it will decompose into water and carbon dioxide which cause the treats to rise._

Wendy was standing in the middle of a grocery aisle, browsing baking soda options. Irene was on the other end, looking for her preferred brand of chocolate chips.

Soft music plays on the loudspeaker above them, and Wendy realizes it’s that crazy-rich-asians version of _Can’t Help Falling In Love._ She looks up briefly and sees that the model is walking towards her in slow, serene steps, clutching onto the bag of ghirardelli as if it was a wedding bouquet.

Wendy rolls her eyes in good spirit and immediately proceeds to straighten inexistent creases on her suit, even wiping her cheeks for dramatic effect.

Irene laughs, now in front of her, and puts her arm around the CEO as they’re facing each other, “I think this is the part where you kiss the bride.”

Wendy chuckles as the model shuts her eyes and puckers her lips. She glances from left to right and sees literally no one ( _because who would shop for baking goods on a Tuesday night)_ , but she removes the older girl’s cap for good measure and hides a quick, chaste peck behind it.

She pulls away completely, places the cap back, and finds herself staring at brown orbs. Wendy feels her stomach flurrying in delight, brain short-circuiting for words, and Irene breaks the silence with eyes still trained on Wendy’s.

“I can’t believe I just married someone who thinks 'The Notebook' is over-praised.” Irene snorts, chucking the brown plastic forward.

“It is, Hyun! It’s terribly cliché.” Wendy picks up the orange-boxed baking soda, tossing it into their cart too.

“You’re tasteless.”

“Yeah, I married you.” Wendy quickly retorts back, laughing and taking a step backward. _She knows what’s coming._

“YAH! TAKE THAT BACK!”

And they’re running in the middle of the store, after turning that aisle of baking additives into a make-believe ‘I do.’

.

They’re back in Irene’s apartment, more specifically in her kitchen, and Wendy discovers they work well together, almost mechanically. The model measures out the flour and sugar in exactitude and Wendy beats the butter.

As Irene’s about to add the chocolate chunks, the CEO speaks up, “The albumin becomes solid with heat energy and it gives the dough structure, but I think we’ll need a source of fat other than butter to emulsify— _”_

“Seungwan.” Irene cuts in, releasing her grip from the packaging.

“I think we should add an egg yolk.” Wendy murmurs, eyes drifting down to the batter in front of them.

“And you’re not sure because...” Irene asks, and Wendy’s about to repeat everything she had said earlier before the model raises a finger, “Slower, please. And in basic _human_ language.”

Wendy laughs albeit apologetically, and turns her head to the older woman. The model leans in, listening intently, and eventually they come to a conclusion that they’ll digress from the recipe and add the yolk for richer flavor and more velvety texture.

.

Wendy sits up against the headboard, semblances of sanity slowly returning as Irene comes out of her high.

Gentle fingers start running over her bare skin, sending sparks through her insides and she steadies herself for another round when the benign fingers push her stomach down.

“If we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to talk tomorrow.” Irene giggles.

Wendy chuckles in agreement, especially since she’s at the receiving end of all the screaming and moaning from the model. 

Irene’s thumbs begin caressing her in an up and down motion, and Wendy realizes this is a habit when the older girl is thinking.

“Can you come pick me up after?” Irene inquires after a prolonged beat of silence, lifting her head from her pillow.

“If it goes well, we’ll have incredible sex.” She continues, and a smile breaks out of Wendy’s face.

“And if it doesn’t,” the model pauses, “We’ll still have incredible sex, but rougher.”

Irene says this in the same steady and playful voice, but Wendy notices the tinge of sadness, the palms that have turned cold.

So Wendy interlaces their hands and hums, staring at the older woman’s face carefully.

“Can I ask, and again you’re not required to answer,” she hears a soft chuckle, “what made you change your mind?”

Unblinkingly, Wendy wonders how it was possible that Irene’s heavily guarded and bruised heart could decide within a few hours that the same person who caused the ache, she would be giving freshly-baked cookies to. (And Wendy also wonders how her heart is still beating in a constant rhythm when the woman in front of her looks so breathtakingly beautiful under the moonlight)

“There was this genius CEO,” Irene starts, the tease in her voice doesn’t mask the sincerity, “who gathered all her strength to warn me that I might regret it if I don’t try.”

Wendy takes in a sharp breath, leaning further back. She didn’t have this chance, but she made Irene understand that the model did and that she should grab it. And Wendy just can’t meet the older woman’s gaze, not when she feels like crying.

Irene presses their interlaced fingers tightly, pulls Wendy impossibly close and kisses her temple.

“You make it sound so easy.” Wendy finally croaks out, voice little.

Irene shakes her head, head against the headboard, “You made me realize it's not that hard.”

.

From then on, their days were filled with noises and the two found themselves assuming to its rhythm.

Irene wakes up alone again, within crumpled sheets and hair neatly tucked on the side of her face. But she hears sounds from her kitchen, the chopper against her black knife and the metal spatula against a wok — she remembers they never had dinner last night.

She stumbles upon a cooking Wendy who is failing _miserably._ The scent of burnt food tickles their nostrils, holding them between a sneeze and a cough and Irene laughs, dressed in a shirt and nothing underneath, they order Chinese takeaway.

The morning ends with _“Call me as soon as it’s done”_ and Irene hums in response.

.

Wendy bears through her friends’ incessant cackling, “Unnie, I can’t believe you burned fried rice.”

Seulgi snickers, “I can’t believe you made an effort to cook.”

Wendy rolls her eyes.

The laughing dies down and Joy follows Wendy’s gaze, “Except when it’s for me and Seulgi-unnie,” Joy pauses, “You never try new things.”

Seungwan knows this, she loves that box of routine and pattern because it makes her do so effortlessly well.

So she looks away from the piercing stare, because she doesn’t have any witty reply or any comeback at all. Seulgi breaks the silence.

“I like it, Seungwan.” She says, fingers tightening around Wendy’s wrist and forces their eyes to meet.

“It’s different—“, Seulgi begins again and the youngest continues for her, “—and it’s good.”

Wendy swallows, breaking off the gaze and feels the warmth return, like a mug of tea that travels through her throat but settles in her chest, thick and unmoving.

.

Wendy finds the habits slowly changing, like when she abandons another of night of work to come see the familiar pair of brown orbs.

She sets her bentley on hazard, sends a text to the model that she’s outside of the gated residence. She leans against the hood of her car, admires the architecture in front of her — striking materials such as glass, steel, and concrete created an overall industrial yet minimalist look. It was nighttime now, but Wendy could still clearly see the modern combination that, in some sort of way, draws you in.

Joohyun comes out, arms over Yerim’s shoulder as the younger sister’s jaw drops, “ _Daebak,_ she’s Son Seungwan and yet she drives you around.”

Before Wendy can react, the older woman beats her to it, “I’m amazing, aren’t I?”

And the siblings in front of her laugh. Wendy loves it, wishes she could hear more of it. But then, she remembers.

“You didn’t reply to me.” She folds her arms over her chest, eyes dangerously narrow to intimidate the blonde kid.

Yerim motions a finger, pointing to herself looking very much perplexed. It takes a few seconds before her face transforms into one of recognition.

“That was you? Like _legit_?”

Wendy rolls her eyes then brings out her device from her coat pocket, unlocking it then turning it toward the younger girl’s face. “You believe me now?”

Yerim continues to stare in awe, “Oh my god. I have your number. In my phone. In my hands.”

“Yeah,” Wendy laughs, puts her mobile away, “So text me when you’re free. I’d like to discuss your research.”

She ignores Irene’s snicker as the younger girl shifts, face turning somber, “You’d do that for me?”

Her voice was meek, like she was so unused to the prospect.

“Of course, Yerim.” Wendy answers right away, _insists._ “Don’t you know how brilliant you are?”

In a second she feels limbs entangled in hers, Yerim envelops her in a hug. She feels a wide smile traversing her clothes and her arms are hanging in mid-air before she realizes the proper response to a hug is hugging them back. So Wendy does exactly that, shutting her eyes and embracing the younger girl even tighter.

As they stood there together, she doesn’t notice Irene’s eyes turning soft, brimming with affection. Seungwan was slowly becoming one of her fondest memories.

.

The model’s apartment was once again filled with noises, loud and frantic and passionate and Irene dismantles underneath Wendy, under fingers that slip and touch all the right places.

“So,” The CEO starts with bated breath, “I presume it went well.”

Wendy looks at the model beside her, and they’re both catching their lungs for air. The sex was incredible, _it always is,_ but it wasn’t any bit rougher. And maybe it was Wendy’s mind playing games with her but tonight felt so much more sensually addictive, intimate, and satisfying.

“Yeah,” Irene says breathily, “I went in there afraid I’d feel out of place.”

She shakes her head, pushes herself up, “But everything felt normal.”

 _Omma_ greeted her with a kiss on the check, tells her she shouldn’t have bothered to bake for them but thanks the model anyway. Irene was soothed by the roundness of her mother's tone, it was something that was hers and hers alone.  
  
She’s led to their dining area, a large rectangular space with plastic sunflowers in the middle. It was filled with the scent of stew simmering on the stove, then Yerim snuggles her in a large embrace. The youngest talks about college and the couple in front of her began discussing their retirement.

Joohyun only hummed, laughed, and soon enough the dinner ended after dark, yet she was so much lighter.

She exhales softly, her eyes falling shut as she presses her forehead against Wendy’s, “It felt like home.”

And in their own little world, Wendy feels something beneath her ribs clench, and she thinks about forgiving herself. For the risks she didn’t take, the places she never travelled. The parents she neglected and the person she didn’t chase after when _she_ walked away.

Wendy unclasps her palms, settles it underneath Irene’s jaw, and she starts to let go of every alternate reality, every _what if_ that could have made things different, because those universes don’t exist.

But this does. And Wendy opens her eyes, giving a deep-seated kiss to the woman in front of her and hopes the message reaches.

.

It all passes by in a blur and the noises are varied — Wendy compares it to multiple distinct elements forming a magnificently complex substance.

“This is so rude and unfair.” She huffs as she stares at the news article on her phone.

**“As United’s sales reach an all-time high, budding friendship between The Bae and CEO Son continues to bloom”**

And at any circumstance, Wendy would have loved that feature. Their sales are at a peak and their brand-to-artist reputation is good.

But there’s a picture attached too. Two nights ago, when Wendy comes down from her gangnam apartment, dressed in an adidas tracksuit while she waits for Joohyun to arrive.

As the older woman steps out of a benz, sporting simple denim jeans and a sweater, Wendy thanks the driver and they take the lift up.

Tonight, they’re in Wendy’s couch again, and the model is laughing at the younger woman’s protests.

“You look fucking gorgeous.” Wendy groans, then taps on the image furiously. “And I look like a hobo!”

Irene watches as Wendy huffs, she doesn’t try to hide the pout or the distress in her voice. She knows she's acting juvenile, but it’s currently the #1 searched article and she looked homeless compared to the woman captured beside her. _Stupid Irene who looks stupidly ethereal in a simple stupid sweater—_

Joohyun kisses her, it’s a simple press of lips but Wendy’s head goes silent.

“That’s for saying I look pretty.” The model says as she pulls away so very slightly, and Wendy thinks pretty is an _extreme_ understatement. Joohyun kisses her again, “That’s to take the pout away.”

And Wendy has long stopped trying to control herself because being near Irene, it was never really possible. So in one swift motion, she lifts her up against her lap and pulls her in for an open-mouthed makeout session.

.

On most days _(when they’re not having sex in each other’s beds),_ the noises are tamer, gently filling up the air between them.

Like the sound of the lock clicking as Wendy enters the model’s apartment, and sees the older woman wearing glasses, reading the science-fiction novel Wendy decided to buy for her. She was browsing economics references in a corner bookstore when she happened to read that book’s unique synopsis, and Irene was the first thought that came to her mind _(Lately, the model was all she could think about.)_

Wendy savors in the sight, Joohyun meeting her gaze as she wears this wide smile that reaches up to her eyes, puckering up its corners in the most endearing way behind those black, round specks.

And when the CEO settles beside her on the couch, Wendy begins mindlessly checking her emails while Irene's expression was full of concentrated intent directed to the hardcover in her hands.

Wendy starts kissing her on the cheek, then she turns her gaze back to the device before she kisses her again, on the nose. Joohyun doesn't respond at first and Wendy resumes her movements as it becomes a cycle of brief kisses and pecks from the model's forehead to her jaw before Irene finally faces her in mild irritation _(she wants to finish the book in peace!)_

“Sorry,” Wendy grins, purely unapologetic, “Can’t help it.”

The model just looks at her, waiting for an explanation, and Wendy finally concedes.

“You do this thing when you’re concentrating,” Wendy furrows her brows in imitation, “and then you tilt your head and I’m sorry but you look _unbearably_ kissable.”

Irene's eyes soften but Wendy only throws her hands up in surrender, “But okay, okay, I’ll stop.”  
  
It takes every inch of self-discipline in her body that she veers her focus on her mobile phone and gets to mark emails done. There are several calls for sponsorships, Wendy thinks about donating to a homeless shelter and teaching the kids.

Wendy glances at Joohyun, wondering if the older woman would like to come with. She sees her staring, and the CEO has once again failed to notice how all this time, Joohyun has been looking at her with an expression of warmth and affection.

.

Wendy discovers quirks of her own.

“You’re upset.”

She has her arms crossed over her chest, lips pouted as she’s sinking in her chair. Yes, she’s _very_ upset but she’s never going to admit that aloud.

Seulgi and Joy have entered her office and the youngest immediately surveyed her.

“Yup, you’re definitely upset.” Joy comes closer, stopping just in front of Wendy’s desk. “You’re doing this arms-folded-with-a-pout thing.”

Wendy’s lips curve deeper.

“And I’m not sure, but I think this is related to Irene Bae leaving the country.” Seulgi says while peering down at her phone, browsing through airport pictures of the model.

It is _everything_ related to Irene leaving the country. And Wendy knows the older woman has a three-day schedule in slovenia, she was there when Irene was packing, there to pick out the good fits from the mediocre ones.

But they’ve been spending evenings together so often that Wendy doesn’t know how to (and doesn’t want to) break that habit.

“If you miss her this much, unnie, just go to her.” Joy says simply, but Wendy knows it’s anything but that, anything but _simple._

She had meetings and proposals to sign and conferences to attend and Irene was also halfway across the world for work.

She just wishes she knew how to settle with this irrational feeling at her core, at the thought of being left behind.

But Wendy also learns time tends to pass by quickly with Joohyun’s messages.

 **_I bought a stuffed hamster  
_ ** **_[image attached]  
_ ** **_It reminded me of you_ **

Wendy doesn’t think, typing and sending the first response that comes to mind.

 **_It’s cute, like me  
_ ** **_Miss me that much?_ **

It takes no more than two seconds when she receives a response.

**_I do_ **

And Wendy, despite fumbling with the screen, finds her insides bursting with new-found confidence.

 **_I’ll pick you up at the airport  
_ ** **_When and what time will you arrive?_ **

.  
  
Paparazzi was relentless and there were fans too, eagerly waiting for the model. Wendy wore a black mask and a leather cap, resting against her audi when Joohyun walks up to to her, smiling in the midst of the cold.

"You want a hug?" Wendy's shocked at the playfulness in her own voice despite the endless shutter around them. No matter the chance and circumstance, lately Irene seems like the easiest choice she could make.  
  
And like always, the other woman's doe-like eyes never deviate from her. She nods, then Wendy wraps her arms around Joohyun and shuts her eyes.  
  
They stay like that for a while, before they bid Jihyo goodbye. And as they’re driving back home and Wendy has to summon every ounce of her self-control to not kiss the model senselessly then and there, the way back to Irene’s apartment was quick.

Now, as they’re cuddling in familiar purple sheets, Joohyun in a nightgown and Wendy in pajamas she had bought her as a souvenir, they begin to fall asleep. Their most peaceful one yet in the days they spent apart.

.

About three weeks have passed since the birthday and Yerim finally comes to her office.

“So, you’re working on the RNA.” Wendy says from behind her chair.

Yerim responds, eyes scanning the entirety of the modern yet cozy space, “Yup, I linked the enzymes to engineered strands of RNA, so that means _—”_

“—you can change sequences of messenger RNA molecules in cells.” Wendy continues, and this time she’s the one in awe.

“Yup,” she pops on the ‘p’ sound, “and I could rewrite the genome’s instructions en route to making proteins.”

Wendy says to the blonde woman in front her, “You’re incredible, you know that right?”, and the student takes a seat on her couch.

“You’re overselling me, Wendy-unnie.” Yerim blushes, because not only was she praised by her favorite CEO, she gets to call her _unnie_ too.

Wendy shrugs then sits beside the student, head against the couch as she stares at the ceiling. “Five years ago, I didn’t even think it was possible.”

“Yeah, but that was _ages_ ago. Give yourself some credit.” Yerim muses with a happy smile.

Before Wendy can say anything else, someone comes in.

“Seungwan _—”,_ and Irene stares at the pair in front of her and she doesn’t know why but she feels _caught_ _._

“Joohyun-unnie,” Yerim speaks with a smirk, “I thought you said you weren’t seeing each other like _that_.”

Yerim stands, staring at her unnie as if daring her to speak. Irene manages to, “I _—”_

“We still aren’t.” Wendy interrupts and the older woman’s brows furrow but Yerim speaks again, “Then this means you’re seeing each other _differently._ ”

And Irene’s right, they’ve been caught. Wendy tries to say something, anything, _anything at all—_

“Seungwan-ah!” Seulgi enters the room holding Joy's hand and Wendy isn’t sure if she should feel relieved or even more terrified.

The two stop in their tracks, facing Irene, and then Yerim, and then Wendy, and they do that about three more times before Sooyoung remarks:

“This is going to be fun.”

.

“So you’re Irene Bae’s sister,” Joy says in Yerim’s direction, and the youngest nods her head.

“Feel free to call me unnie, Joy-ah.” And Joy smiles at the model, lips full and eyes crinkling.

“Okay unnie,” then she turns back to the youngest, “And you came here because?”

“Wendy-unnie said she was interested.” Yerim shrugs, as if she didn’t squeal for a solid five minutes at being personally invited by Wendy Son to United’s headquarters.

It’s Seulgi who speaks, “She’s interested in your research?” Not caring to hide the surprise in her voice, “What’s it about?”

Wendy knows its untypical of her to take a second glance, more so inconvenience herself, with scientific studies that weren’t groundbreaking. Because she wouldn’t have won best thesis at MIT and at the global research awards if she wasn’t _meticulous,_ to say the least.

“It’s similar to her CRISPR genetic scissoring, but with RNA.”

And with that, Seulgi and Joy both nod in understanding. They’ve watched it happen, how that study paved way for companies to develop drugs and treatments, and how it’s become a fixture in almost any laboratory.

Wendy shoots her two friends a look of _be nice, she’s good_ and before it becomes a silent game of talking with your eyes, their food arrives in a cart, the familiar United logo imprinted on the metal.

They’re all seated at the table of Wendy’s office, the view of Seoul visible through the high glass walls.

Wendy knows Irene was scared of heights, so she pulls the chair beside her, motions for the model to sit down as Wendy tries her best to block the view with her body. Across from them, Seulgi, Joy, and Yerim take their seats too.

They begin transferring the plates on the cart to their table, and as soon as Wendy sees the _tteokbokki_ she places it in front of Irene, remembers that the model dropped by because she was craving for the spicy rice cakes, hoping Wendy would have it for lunch too.

Irene smiles in gratitude, then puts a pair of chopsticks in front of Wendy. Then the CEO uncaps a water bottle, pouring its content into Irene’s glass. Everything was routine, like clockwork.

And the both of them are unaware of the three pairs of eyes staring at them, all looking particularly entertained.

“How about you, Irene-unnie?” Joy asks, taking a sip of her drink, “Why are you here?”

Cautiously, Irene replies. “I wanted to eat tteokbokki.”

“Right,” Yerim snorts, “It’s tteokbokki you wanted to eat.”

And the two youngest snigger in unison and Wendy can’t help but feel _disturbed._ She had a hard enough time handling a blunt and merciless Sooyoung, Wendy doesn’t think she can handle two.

Seconds of silence pass over them, all attention on their delicious food when Seulgi looks up with cheeks still full.

“Seungwan, can you turn up the heating? I feel the cold coming in.”

As Wendy stands toward the wall-mounted remote, lips parting in an explanation, Irene beats her to it.

“It’s actually the heat going out.” And Seulgi turns to the model, her chewing getting slower.

Wendy returns to her seat and continues, her gaze directed at the model in front of her, “Any change in the internal energy of a system is determined by the heat transferred.”

They’re sharing the same wide smiles as Irene speaks again, “First law of thermodynamics, right?"

Wendy finds that their hands are interlaced, and she kisses the back of Joohyun’s, “Correct, Hyun.”

“Oh my god.” Seulgi says, as her mouth hangs open and bits of food are once again falling over.

“I can’t.” Yerim shakes her head, looking at the still-engaged-in-a-staring-contest couple, “I’m gonna vomit if I don’t get out of here.”

“Let’s go.” Joy says, carrying their plates of food as the three begin walking away.

The pair shrugs, very much happy in their own bubble, and Wendy asks how the _tteokbokki_ is. Joohyun feeds her a piece and Wendy’s eyes widen, “It’s good, give me more.”

She reopens her mouth and Irene shakes her head in a laugh.

“But this is _my_ food.” She points out, but in the end, Irene gives in. She gives in to the pout, to the puppy dog eyes, to the sloppy kisses on her cheek.

She gives in to Wendy.

.

Wendy finds herself giving in, too.

She finds herself choosing to go forward with a sad and deliberate truth that she needs to move her mind and heart away from the people she loved and lost, or else she will stay lost alongside them.

“So was it a wrong time kind of thing?”

“Hmm..” Wendy looks over to the side, where the Seoul lights are seeping through the curtains of her balcony.

They shine on her, and Irene engraves this image in her mind because the younger woman looks _captivating._ And although Irene loves her talks and press speeches and rambles about the complexities of the world — this Seungwan is by far, her favorite. Raw and wide-open to understand.

“I don’t think it was.” Wendy says.

If she was asked about this two years ago, she would have said the timing was wrong without any hesitation. Wendy would have easily blamed circumstance and fate and every other matter in the universe as to why she and _her_ couldn’t end up together.

But it’s been two years and some things become clearer, that the truth about the timing being wrong just meant that _she_ wasn’t strong enough to stay. That Wendy was loved, but it was not quite enough to stick around and try.

And Wendy wishes she could fully explain what it felt like, but her pain was never artistic or delicate, it was the messiest thing she has ever known. It dug the dirt out of her soul.

But she tries, with a faraway look as she recalls on memories she had long buried. “I guess she had different priorities. She was on her way to achieve her soloist dreams, and United was growing bigger.”

 _She_ wasn’t her world, but _she_ made Seungwan’s better. Wendy learned to live with the darkness of her parents’ death and that her innate library of knowledge wasn’t condescending or dry, but a part of what made her lovable. And she was loved. Wendy learned to taste the good in bitterness and she understood that both of these can exist with happiness and hope. 

But one day, she went home to an empty apartment and she tried to call so many times, pressing heatedly on that name at the top of her contact list but to no avail, it went straight to voicemail. And she remembers the blue sticky note.

_I’m sorry. I’ll miss you._

She never cried so hard in her life. Once the first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. Her knees gave in, and she lied down on that familiar wooden floor crying with a force unknown to her.

Because when the news of her parents’ death came, she thought it wasn’t true, clung to the hope that it was a mistake. And it took weeks before the grief settled, she never had the chance to mourn.

But as she read that square piece of paper, she knew that it was absolute. They were over. And what they had was something she never wanted to lose.

Irene speaks, akin to a whisper, “So you were holding her back?”

Wendy left her daze immediately, now turning to the older woman. She shakes her head, she didn’t think it was like that at all. They could have worked, she would have tried so hard if she was given the chance to.

“She made a choice.” Wendy pauses, inhaling a lungful of air, “She made a choice so I wouldn’t have to.”

She ends with a small smile and Irene nods. She’s never had a love like that, but she knows what sacrifices entail, and more often than not they don’t end pretty.

“How about you?” Wendy asks, then she chuckles slightly at the sight of Irene’s confused reaction.

“What do you mean?”

“Any relationships?” Seungwan asks again and puts away a strand of hair that fell just above the older woman’s cheek. _Beautiful._

“Ah,” Irene understood now. “No, I don’t think I’ve met the right person.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Wendy accentuates this with a laugh and Joohyun raises her eyebrows.

“Again, _Seungwan,_ what do you mean?”

Noticing the change of tone, Wendy quickly explains. “No, it’s not anything bad—“ she breathes rapidly, “I just knew you would say that because you’re kind and smart and funny and amazing and breathtaking and no one would probably come close to everything you are and I—“

“Seungwan.” Wendy stops. “Breathe, I was just teasing.”

The younger woman exhales a sigh of relief and Joohyun chuckles before she continues. “I’m always away and traveling. But I still tried, at first.”

Irene looks back at an earlier time of her career, where her relationships had lasted for a while.

“There was Cara, she was a london-based model. We met at a fashion show and clicked instantly.” Irene shifts a little as Wendy soothes circles onto her palm.

“I mostly had deals in New York so we couldn’t meet often. But I think we were good.” She pauses, unable to pinpoint through past lovers _(not when her memories are invaded by short blonde hair and a distinct vanilla scent)_ and it takes effort but she remembers more.

“There was Sana, a Japanese singer. And there was Dahyun too! A really cute DJ who looked like tofu.”

They both laugh at this, Irene at the memory and Wendy at that description — who else could say a person looks like tofu without offending them? _Joohyun._

“Anyway, it all lasted quite a while, the longest about four months?” Wendy was surprised but made no show of it. _Four months was long?_

“But it ended when I broke it off.”

“Why?”

“Usually, we both wanted it to end. But I’d say it first because they were afraid to hurt me,” _Like I was fragile._ Irene doesn’t say that though. She continues with something else, something she thinks Wendy should hear.

“I realized that we were dating but I never really missed them.” The blonde just stares at her, her left palm behind her ear as her elbow props her on the bed.

“They would call me and ask how my day was, and I resorted to answering “fine” or “good”, or you know,” Irene shifts closer, “answers when you don’t really want to talk.”

She shakes her head slightly, hoping that Seungwan understands.

“I never wanted to talk to them about the mundane things. Like how I had a bad day because there was chicken in my lunch, or that some stylist pulled on my hair too harshly.”

She sighs, “It always felt like I had to put on a facade, and then we’d both realize that really, relationships aren’t supposed to feel like that.”

Wendy’s hands stop their motions, she now intertwines them together as they lay limp in front of Irene's bare chest. The model appreciates this, values that silent support.

“I know they’re petty and that there are bigger, more important things, but I wanted to talk about the small ones and not feel ashamed.”

In her line of work, she’s surrounded by exceptionally beautiful or talented or successful people. Some, she had an instant spark with, but in due time Irene would feel that whatever they had was shallow and superficial.

She would be the first to address this, ' _I don’t think this is working anymore.'_ And most of the time her partner would agree. They would go on separate ways amicably and after a series of the same kind of relationships, she stopped trying.

She settled with the fact that almost no one could walk past through the walls she unconsciously built, ones that keep growing over time unannounced.

 _Almost._ She looks at the girl in front of her and for once, she finds herself believing.

Wendy, who Irene knows is once again lost for words, leans down to kiss her instead.

Irene smiles, pulls away, and their breaths mingle. She brushes their noses together and she begins to think, with confidence and clarity, that in a much later point in time she was utterly wrong about not having met the right one.

.

They get used to the time apart and overseas schedules, both from Irene’s side and Wendy’s.

And as she’s sitting on their plane to meet foreign investors, she achingly misses the model but she knows, in a few hours she’d come back to an apartment that isn’t her own.

That they would always come back to each other afterward, hugging with bright, brown eyes.

And the noises never fade, they’re there and it fills the emptiness between and within them.

Like the sound of bubble wrap and plastic being aggressively shed away, because Irene just bought Wendy the newly-released limited edition, gold Playstation from her trip to New York.

Or when Wendy puts Elton John’s _I’m Still Standing_ on her turntable, and they’re dancing around in her living room in nothing but underwear. Then _Your Song_ starts to play, and their foreheads are pressed together swaying slowly to the music.

_How wonderful life is_   
_While you're in the world_

Irene can’t see her face, but she knows Wendy’s smiling. She shuts her eyes and breathes her in.   
  
As the song comes to an end, Wendy parts her mouth open at what Irene anticipates was a kiss, but the younger girl whispers, “Who’s the better piano man again?”

And Joohyun rolls her eyes, Wendy kisses her anyway.

.

In any normal scenario, Seungwan would welcome Joohyun’s calls, answering it in a heartbeat. But right now, she’s in a class meeting where snarky shareholders want to amend and change their company rights.

So she clicks on accept to hurriedly end the call, turning her head away from the group, “Hyun— _"_

_“Hi.”_

All her thoughts are let go in an instant. She curls her fingers around the device tightly.

Joohyun was crying.

And in any normal scenario, Wendy would have broken several traffic rules to get to the other woman, but she was in a meeting and Joohyun was in a different country.

So she signals to Rosé and walks straight of the room.

“What happened?”

 _“T_ – _there was a commotion at the event.”_

Her words were muffled, choked out in between sniffles.

_“And no one from the management expected it and—”_

Rosé comes out into the hall and Wendy sends her a signal again, so that the secretary knows that right now, this was far more important.

The younger girl moves closer, hands her pen to Wendy and the CEO writes on her palm, phone in between her ear and shoulder.

The secretary nods at the instructions and walks away.

_“A fan got too close and I just—“_

Wendy feels the older woman’s lips quiver, feels the tears rolling down and it _hurts._ She wants it to stop.

So Wendy decides.

_“I miss you.“_

“I miss you too, Hyun.”

For a moment, the line goes silent. The numbers are flowing through her brain.

“Can I call you back in,” she pauses, “two hours and ten minutes?”

Irene chuckles slightly, _“Of course, Seungwan.”_

And Wendy begins to run.

.

A doorbell wakes her up from her slumber. She looks at the hotel room’s clock it read _10:23pm._

She’s about to drift off again when her phone beeps with a notification. She blinks blearily at screen, eyes puffed from the tears, and she sees it's a message from Seungwan.

**_Open the door_ **

_What?_

She hurriedly lifts the covers, hugs her robe impossibly close in brisk and urgent steps. _Please._

“Hyun, why weren’t you answeri _—”_

Before Wendy could finish, Irene’s engulfs into a fierce hug, legs wrapped around the CEO’s frame.

Wendy releases a sigh, hands underneath the older woman’s thighs as she shuts the door behind them with her foot. She leans against the door frame, pulling away slightly, "Shh, it's okay now," and Irene realizes she’s crying again when the other girl’s fingers brush her cheek, wiping the tears away.

Joohyun sinks back into the embrace, squeezing tight in the comfort and tranquility only Seungwan could offer.

.

It’s past midnight and they’re cuddling in bed, both clad in hotel robes after a warm bath.

“So how did you get here so quickly?” Joohyun asks as she presses a soft kiss on their intertwined hands.

“I used the company jet.” Wendy replies, her head resting comfortably on the older woman’s shoulder. “I called you back in _exactly_ two hours and ten minutes, by the way. I’m a woman of my word.”

Joohyun chuckles, “How’d you know the timing?”

Wendy hums, “I asked Rosé to talk to the crew, and I knew you were about 1600 miles away since I flew here recently too. So, I estimated how long it would take since the maximum speed the jet could fly was around 1200 kilometers per _—”_

Wendy stifles a chuckle at the soft snoring, setting a kiss on the woman’s hair as she settles the both of them between the myriad of pillows.  
  
There's a persistent murmur coming from the air-conditioning unit, and the only reminder of time passing is the hardly audible tick of the nightstand clock. Wendy thinks, here lies pure peace, an instant flit from all the insistent cares.

.

The next early morning, they’re walking through _Dangwa Market_ hand-in-hand. There are few people between the narrow lanes that pass in between stalls, baskets around them are filled with flowers and green leaves.  
  
The women present are bargaining unendingly, while men move briskly to buy. An old lady calls on the two and for split-second, Wendy thought they’d been recognized. But the vendor just coaxes her to _‘get the tulip bouquet for your pretty girlfriend’_ and the other old ladies laugh along at the comment, their friendliness oozing despite the unfamiliarity.

Now, as the two are flying back home in comfortable seats, an arrangement of pungent purple flowers beside Irene, Wendy wonders how lovely it would be to just indulge _—_ to let go and see the rest of the world like that, with Joohyun holding her hand.

.

But this is real life, so that meant Wendy had meetings and deadlines and Irene traveled to places across the world, smiling for cameras when all she wants is to be back in a certain CEO’s arms.

The world drifts along as it always has _—_ but Wendy knows something has shifted deep inside of her, and it’s too late to put it back.

Because the lilt of Joohyun’s laugh makes Wendy breathless, and the taste of her lips drives Wendy insane. And right now, Wendy’s transfixed with the movement of Irene’s hands as she sips from a simple cup of coffee and Wendy would like to think that whatever they are, whatever this is, will work.

That all they need is a lazy sunday, watching an indie film bundled up in blankets, and Wendy puts in every ounce of faith that this will work.

That right here and right now is all she has, and Wendy sighs, because all she can do is hope that it’s enough.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s an advance christmas present for y’all! Happy holidays! <3

“Fuck.” Joohyun says, and she rarely curses.

_“Hello to you too.”_

Wendy answers with a chuckle.

“Sorry, I just—”

The initial sound of fingers typing against a keyboard come to a halt, Wendy’s attention all on her, _“What happened?”_

Joohyun sighs, “My flight got delayed for forty minutes.” Her grip tightening against her luggage handle.

Ordinarily, it would have been fine, after all she was just an hour away in Narita airport. But fate tends to complicate things, just when she needs to immediately return for a CF shoot for that liquor brand.

“I’m supposed to be at _Gangwondo_ in,” she looks up at the airport clock, the time blaring red as if to mock her, “2 hours.” Joohyun sighs again, will her life ever be uncomplicated? That’s probably a blaring red ‘no’ too.

Wendy hums in response, _“Is Jihyo there?”_

Irene huffs, “No, she would’ve been at the location site by now.” Then she continues, “And I need to call her about this.”

She massages her temples, the thought of news articles attacking her punctuality is starting to make the veins in her head throb.

_“Safe flight, Hyun.”_

The call disconnects.

.

Joohyun hurriedly steps out of the car, she’s an hour late and yet — _why is no one here?_ She stares at abandoned camera and filming gears, left open in the humid air. Still dressed in her blue, striped off-shoulder, mid-thigh denim skirt and high heels, she sets about briskly and rings her manager.

“Jihyo where are—“, her mouth gradually begins to drop at the sight in front of her, but she catches herself. She ends the barely three-second phone call as her manager, in the flesh, comes closer.

Joohyun tries to wrap around her head the scene, still struggling to form coherent words when Jihyo gently takes her elbow and they weave through the crowd.

“Smile, Joohyun.” The manager whispers and Irene does exactly that. Everyone she passes by begins greeting her and soon the applause grows louder, bouncing off against the soil and grass.

All the filming crew were seated amongst foldable round tables, white cloth underneath food-filled plates. Along with formally-dressed servers and chefs, there were several dishes skillfully placed upon tray after tray — sashimi, pad thai, pasta, roti, and more — you could choose a meal from every continent.

Then, as they continue to walk towards her tent, there was a food truck of _tteokbokki_ with a banner just above it: _”For Bae Irene, from your number one fan.”_

Jihyo swings the plastic open, escorts her inside, and pushes Joohyun's shoulder down slightly to position her on the make-up chair. “We need to get you out there ready,” she chortles, “they’re going to be finished soon.”

And before Irene can ask just what exactly _that_ was, another person enters their tent.

“Good day, Miss Bae.” The woman bows. It was Rosé.

“Miss Son is currently in a world leader conference,” she smiles, “But she instructed me that as soon as you arrive, I should tell you that this is how you work against Murphy’s Law.”

Joohyun rolls her eyes while chuckling, and Rosé continues, “She also told me that if you did an eyeroll, I should laugh at you.”

“So, ha-ha.” Joohyun claps her hands in mirth, that was the most robotic laugh she had ever heard.

Still grinning broadly, “Thank you Rosé-ssi.” She begins, “Seungwan speaks highly of you, I can see why.”

It was true. During their conversations, Wendy would always mention her two friends and the said secretary with fondness. Not only was Rosé responsible, but she shares her opinion on their current matters with conviction, and this was very much valued by Wendy and the whole company. And Joohyun knows Seungwan well enough to understand that look of admiration and indebtedness in the CEO’s eyes.

Rosé simply bows to the model and takes her leave, but Joohyun chuckles at the faint blush forming at the tips of the secretary’s ears. _How cute._

As she faces the mirror and feels the bristles brushing her cheek, Joohyun shuts her eyes. And all throughout the process, her makeup artist has to repeatedly remind her to keep her expression neutral, that Joohyun has to stop smiling so wide at the thought of coming home to blonde hair and a vanilla scent.

.

 **“The Bae’s Kindness is Reflected through Her Fans!”**

The headline reads and Wendy smiles, her dimples flashing. She scrolls further and clicks on images of Irene holding a cup of _tteokbokki,_ sporting a white dress and green coat. There were also staff members with her, looking positively satisfied.

“This is you, isn’t it?” Seulgi asks, phone in her hand, apparently scrolling through the same article.

Wendy’s smile deepens, “No, it’s not.”

Joy chimes in, “It’s definitely you.”

Wendy glances at her, shutting her phone and crossing her arms. Joy turns to her and shows her own screen, “People are saying Rosé was there, unnie. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Wendy shrugs, leans back against her office couch, “Because it isn’t.”

Seulgi’s eyes turn to the CEO, “So this is you?” Wendy nods and her friend continues, “But a while ago you said it wasn’t.”

Wendy snorts, “Now I’m saying it is.”

“YAH!” And Wendy begins to laugh as Seulgi hits her shoulder.

“I don’t even know why we bother asking. It’s obviously her.” Joy clicks her tongue, shifting in the couch to face the two women in front of her.

“But I want to know, _why_ are you doing this?” She asks, a mischievous lilt in her voice.

“Sooyoung, don’t go there.” Wendy replies, shaking her head.

“No, no,” Joy stands, proceeds to sit beside her, “We are having this conversation.”

Wendy looks to her right, _pleads_ to Seulgi and the older woman shrugs, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Joy shoots her a glare as Wendy glances away, staring up at the ceiling, “I’m happy,” she pauses, “and I haven’t felt like this in a long time.” _Since her_ , doesn’t need to be said.

Joy pats Wendy’s leg, then rests her back against the couch, looking up as well, “We know, unnie, we’re just—”

_Afraid._

She leans her head on Wendy’s shoulder and shuts her eyes in recollection of just how much it hurt seeing Seungwan like that, drowning in dark and murky water when it seemed like the only one who could save her chose to leave.

And Joy knows how strong Wendy was to have survived it, knows just how much the pain became an inevitable component to move forward. But if whatever _this_ is, ends badly again, Joy’s not so sure if they can still handle and withdraw from the destruction.

“Invite her for tomorrow, Seungwan.” Seulgi perks up at the silence, “She’s our brand model anyway, so it’s only right she comes.”

Wendy eyes her friend suspiciously, "Is that allowed?”

Seulgi chuckles, “Of course, Wan-ah. It’s the 100th day since our release. Without her it wouldn’t have been possible.” She winks but it comes out as a half-lidded blink instead.

Wendy chuckles at her friend and Joy whips her head up, “So you’ll invite her, right?” The youngest asks excitedly.

Wendy nods, “But why do you look so...” Then Joy shakes her head, turning back and shrugging in normalcy. Before Wendy can comment, she receives a notification.

**_We’re about to head back there_ **

And Wendy can’t suppress a smile as she types in a response.

**_I can’t wait to see you_ **

She didn’t know Joy was peering over until she hears a sigh just beside her ear, “You’re awful.” She gruntles.

“Aw, I feel the same about you.” Wendy retorts smoothly, all smiles and no bite.

Joy turns to Seulgi and pulls her by the hand, “Let’s go, unnie.”

Seulgi lets out a tiny yelp but her feet are following anyway, “Wendy-unnie _can’t wait_ to see her supermodel _friend_.”

Wendy rolls her eyes, “Shut up, Sooyoung.”

And they walk out the door.

.

It’s almost nine in the evening when she hears the sound of footsteps, Rosé tells her that they got stuck in traffic and Irene had fallen asleep on the way.

“Hi, Hyun.” She plants a kiss on the older woman’s forehead as she lifts her legs above the L-shaped couch, cushioning a pillow underneath the model’s head.

“I just need to finish some paperwork then I’ll get you home soon.”

Joohyun only hums in response, feels herself falling back to sleep as Wendy’s vanilla fragrance dampens her senses.

The CEO spins on her heels, grabbing a blanket from her storage room. She tucks it neatly over the model’s figure and resumes to her desk. The sooner she gets work done, the better.

From time to time, she catches glimpses of Joohyun mumbling sleepily, her small frame comfortably curling onto the large couch. Wendy can't help but smile fondly at the sight, but right now she really needs to focus on the stack of papers in front of her.

.

An hour and a half later, she cracks her fingers and stretches her hands above her head. She shuts her desk light off and walks over to the woman on her couch, bending down to shake her arms gently.

“Hyun..” The model stirs, and Wendy places the back of her hand on Joohyun’s forehead. _Just to make sure._

She exhales a sigh of relief, the temperature seemed normal enough, “Hyun, wake up.” She says softly.

Joohyun’s eyes flutter open and their eyes met, holding for a beat before Joohyun speaks, “Hi, Seungwan.”

She sits up properly and holds Wendy’s hand, the CEO kisses the back of Joohyun's and moves to sit beside her, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Joohyun says, left hand rubbing her eyes, her voice still laced with sleep.

Wendy hums lightly, then brushes a few strands of hair away from Joohyun's face when the model speaks again, “Do you think teleportation can happen?”

 _That’s sudden,_ Wendy thinks. “That’s more a physics question.”

The model turns to her completely and Wendy continues, “Why do you want to know?”

“I dreamt about it.”

“About teleporting?” Wendy snickers.

“No silly,” Joohyun responds, shaking her head, “You and I, we were in someplace different.”

Wendy hums, leaning in to kiss the model on the cheek, “And where’s that?”

Joohyun shrugs, “I’m not sure.” She pauses, “But it felt nice.”

Wendy backs away a little, thumb slowly soothing circles on their intertwined hands, “Where do you want to go?”

Joohyun smiles, “Anywhere with you.”

“Yeah?” Wendy asks, smiling just as wide.

“Yeah.” They both lean in for a kiss when someone startles them.

“Good evening.” And the pair pull away instantly, eyes wide and turning their heads to the familiar voice.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Rosé starts, “I’ve actually been trying to make my presence known but the both of you were...”

She motions her hands toward the two women and Wendy flashes a sheepish grin while Joohyun tears her glance away from the secretary, putting a hand on her face as if to hide behind the embarrassment.

Wendy chuckles before she spoke, “What is it?”

Rosé asks, “Will we still put chicken on the menu tomorrow?”

“Oh, right.” Wendy faces the model again, “Hyun, are you free tomorrow 6pm?”

It took a second before Irene nods, “That’s settled then,” Wendy turns her attention to the secretary, “no chicken.”

“Okay, Miss Son.”

Rosé clicks on her heels, turning her back momentarily in hesitation before she faces the couple again, “We’re currently partnered with the Switzerland Embassy, so we can easily book accommodation if you’d like.”

Joohyun’s jaw slackens, _how much did she hear? Has she been watching all this time?_ Meanwhile Wendy begins weighing her options, then thanks the secretary for telling her.

Rosé steps out and Joohyun groans, the trail of warmth still on her cheeks. “She’s _never_ going to see me the same way again.”

“Hyun, we literally have sex in this office,” Wendy snorts, “We’re not as discreet as you think we are.”

Joohyun gapes at her, “And you’re not worried?”

“No, she’s nice and I trust her.” Wendy shrugs, “And she works for me.” She adds teasingly.

Joohyun squeezes their clasped hands, “You’re so..” _irresistibly annoying._

“Cute?” The CEO responds, leaning in to taunt, “Smart?”

And they both laugh.

Voice measured, Wendy asks, “What do you think about Switzerland?”

“Like I said, anywhere with you.” And Joohyun finally presses their lips together.

.

Their conference hall was once again redesigned, but this time stage lights color the whole venue and round tables are spread around the hall, with a dance floor placed at the center. Left and right were long lines for the buffet area, while at the frontmost part was the stage stood a wall-mounted LED screen flashing the words _“Happy 100 days!”_

Company parties were usually spent only during the holidays, but since they’ve reached several milestones and broke records with this product release alone, Seulgi and her team arranged this celebration.

Everyone from different units and departments came to gather here, and even interns were undoubtedly enjoying. It’s only been thirty minutes past, but Wendy impatiently taps on her foot while sipping orange juice from her glass.

Joy rolls her eyes, “You act as if you didn’t just see her this morning.”

Wendy shrugged in response, still staring at the door. “If you’re so—”

Her voice trails in mid-air, leaving her speechless. The doors flung open and Irene entered, wearing a white dress with golden lining, the stage lights casting her a spectral glow.

The model slips through the crowd, bowing her head in the process as everyone seemed to have also halted in their steps to stare at her. As soon as she finds Wendy, she smiles, walking toward their direction.

But before Seungwan gets to say anything, Joy speaks first.

“You could step on me and I’d thank you.”

Joohyun’s brows formed a V, “Why would I step on you, Joy-ah?”

And Wendy laughs, sends a chaste kiss to the back of the model’s hand before intertwining them.

Joy raises her hands in surrender, “Have fun, lovebirds.” Then she winks at Wendy and weaves through the crowd.

“Are you hungry?” Wendy asks the older girl and Joohyun nods eagerly.

The CEO chuckles, letting go of their hands and places hers on the model’s waist instead, and Joohyun tries not to marvel at how effortlessly they seemed to fit together.

She shakes her head, taking the glass from the younger girl and steals a sip, “This is good.” Irene hums in delight.

“Let’s get you some then.” Wendy responds smiling.

.

As the evening wore on, they stayed seated together in the center table of the room, talking quietly in the familiar way they do. Every now and then, people had come up to greet and congratulate them, some even asking for pictures. And Wendy laughs at the shy workers who request her to temporarily become their photographer.

Wendy doesn’t mind it one bit, they're all happy and the woman beside her blazes with something that’s so cozy and intimate. And as everyone’s staring at the screen in front of them, a timeline presentation of United’s achievements, Wendy’s eyes dart to Joohyun.

She remembers that fire that fueled within her when they first met five years ago, and the spark that never seems to die out. She pulls her in even closer and kisses her hair.

Joohyun turns to her briefly, brown eyes sparkling before the lights brighten once again and Seulgi steps out onto the podium, “Let the party begin!” And everyone applauds excitedly.

Wendy waits for the live band to start playing, motioning to grab her glass when someone taps her on the shoulder, two microphones in hand.

She immediately deflects it away, “I will kill you.”

Joy rolls her eyes, “You’re so dramatic.” Before Wendy can retort, Seulgi comes along and pulls her up.

“C’mon unnie,” Joy says, then turns to Joohyun, “Irene-unnie, please convince her.”

And Wendy thinks maybe it’s the wine, or the fact that everyone in the room is looking at the trio in anticipation. But then Wendy also thinks it’s the way Joohyun says _“Please, Seungwan,”_ with those same sparkling doe eyes radiating warmth and — Seungwan’s been in the cold for so long.

She last sung with _her,_ but right now it doesn’t matter. She grabs the mic and the three climb onto the stage, the beat starts playing.

 _I got my eyes on you  
_ _You're everything that I see  
_ _I want your hot love and emotion endlessly_

.

“I can’t believe you didn’t invite us.” Joy huffs, glaring at the pair in front of her.

Wendy only laughs while Irene turns to the younger, “It’s only three days, Joy-ah.” She says softly.

“Besides, all of you have stuff to do.” Wendy chimes in as she turns to Yerim, who still had a couple of weeks of classes. Seulgi, who would be meeting foreign investors in her absence, thus Wendy will be leaving the jet with her. And Joy, who will undeniably trust no one else to leave her team unguided for three days.

They decided to meet in Wendy’s office once again, having lunch before the pair would leave for their trip to Switzerland.

Yerim scowls at the CEO, “But you still wouldn’t invite us if we were free.”

“That’s true.” And that earns her a hit to her arm from the youngest, and Wendy immediately winces as she rubs on the spot.

Joohyun ignores them and opens her notes app, “So what should we get for the three of you?”

“I want cheese!” “Leather boots!” “A knife!”

And all four heads whip to Joy, “Geez,” she raises her hands in defense, “I meant a Swiss knife.”

They exhale a sigh of relief.

“But will you get me a knife if I asked for one?”

All four simultaneously replied, “NO!”

.

As they enter their first-class cabin, they’re greeted with two massage chairs on both sides of a neat double bed, along with two glasses of white wine.

Wendy rests on the bed, opening one arm wide for Joohyun to lean into her, they clink their glasses together and the plane lifts in altitude.

“Let’s watch a movie.” Joohyun suggests, putting down her glass and grabbing down for the remote.

“Hyun, airplane movies are always bad.” Wendy protests, “They’re sponsored.”

“Then we’re going to watch a bad romcom.” Joohyun grins, she loves the critically acclaimed films just as much as the trashy, corny ones. Wendy, on the other hand, just reaches out for a beer on the mini fridge.

Joohyun only squeezes her arm, “I’ll probably fall asleep, Hyun.” Wendy laughs, and Joohyun tilts her head up to kiss her on the cheek as the opening credits begin to roll.

They sat together, warm bodies against the other and soon enough, Joohyun hears soft snores. She felt thirsty but she knew Wendy was a light sleeper, so she settles in her seat, making little-to-no movement as possible.

She thinks a dry throat was a miniscule sacrifice, compared to all the goodness Wendy had brought into her life.

.

It’s their first night in Switzerland, snuggled on the balcony as the snow-capped peaks of the Alps and the glittering blue lake became their view.

Wendy managed to convince Joohyun to ride the train up the mountain and Irene isn’t surprised her horizons expand as she takes that risk. The view was breathtaking, but she also realizes there are some chances she will never grab, like that offer for tourists to go paragliding.

It’s growing darker now, and above them, the stars had multiplied in the ebony sky.

“Seungwan! It’s a shooting star!” She points above, “Quick, make a wish.”

Wendy chuckles at the older woman’s clasped hands and tightly shut eyes, “Hyun, it’s just dust and rock burning up as they fall into the earth’s atmosphere.”

She says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Joohyun's ear. The model faces her, “So you’re saying my wish won’t come true?” She mutters.

Seungwan only hums, she could hear the gentle rhythm of Joohyun’s breaths as the model tucked her face into Wendy’s neck, inhaling her scent.

Joohyun slowly kisses her, beneath her jaw, the skin on her throat, the spot near her collarbone. Wendy’s breathing turns rapid and without breaking her gaze, Joohyun reaches for her hand and begins leading her back inside the bedroom.

Seungwan stirs after a night of passion, eyes fluttering open and a naked Joohyun beside her. Through the window, she watches the sun rise as if being heaved from the ocean, and in all her life, she has never witnessed a more spectacular dawn.

And she knows she doesn’t need shooting stars or fallen eyelashes, because whatever she wished for in the past — she already had more, delicately lying between her arms.

.

As the both of them got dressed, Wendy in a brown sweater and black denim skirt, Joohyun in a blue top and black pants, they walked to a café just beside Lake Tanay, where the water was a mirror, reflecting the sunlight’s rays and the bright sky. It smelled of grass and dirt and the earth itself, almost primordial.

“It’s beautiful here.” Joohyun whispers. Wendy hums in acknowledgement, eyes now glued to her phone.

**“CEO Son and The Bae, Cozy and Comfortable for a Business Travel.”**

The image attached was of them at the airport, Joohyun laughing as her arms gripped Wendy’s brown coat tightly, facing away from the gush of the wind. Wendy chuckles at the thought that people believed it was purely for business.

She scrolls through the comments and apparently, she’s mistaken.

 **@incorrectrv** business travel? SCAM it’s a honeymoon  
 **@wenrenesakalam** yup they’re definitely fucking  
 **@hetluvie** i knew they’d be a thing since day 1, i am a prophet bow down to me peasants

But Wendy felt her shoulders sag.

 **@renebaebae29** the bae found another fuckbuddy

“Is everything okay?” Joohyun asks, watching the CEO silently as she takes a sip from her mug of hot chocolate.

She hears nothing, so Irene leans in as she senses Wendy's hesitation, “Spit it out, Seungwan. It’s just me.”

Wendy demurred, “Are we fuck buddies?”, her voice tiny and laced with doubt.

Joohyun kept silent for a beat, leaning backward, “Where is this coming from?”

Despite Irene’s unwavering gaze, Wendy still panics, “Are we??”

“Of course n—”

“Hyunnie?” A light voice interrupts them and Wendy hears the crunch of gravel as the source comes closer.

 _Hyunnie?_ That’s new.

Joohyun looks up, eyes flashing in recognition as her mouth curves into a smile, “Sana-yah!”

Irene stands and pulls the singer into a hug and everything seemed to happen so fast.

Wendy registers the _“I’ll show you something quick,”_ and her vision just focuses on that hand on Joohyun’s wrist, and maybe it’s the rage because of that uncalled for comment she just read, or how Irene didn’t even get to respond properly, or how this ex-girlfriend looks like a literal ball of sunshine, but Wendy is _fuming._

She grabs Sana's wrist that’s tugging on Joohyun’s, “Do you have a death wish?”

Sana blinked, then she realizes it’s a threat, “What?”

The Japanese singer flickers from the anger lined on the CEO’s face and to Joohyun’s bewildered expression, then she giggles, letting go of the model.

The singer takes a small step backward, “Sorry, I got excited there.” She says, then smirking, “The both of you can meet my fiancé.”

At that statement, Wendy releases her viselike grip.

.

About thirty minutes later, they were heading back to their inn and Joohyun was on facetime with Joy, the three were having s _amgyeopsal_ in Myeongdong.

 _“Unnie, I can’t believe you did that to Minatozaki Sana.”_ Joy exhales, like she was just _so done_ with Wendy.

Yerim exclaims, _“She’s a fluffy ball of sunshine!”_

“I know,” Wendy admits, “That’s exactly why I snapped!”

 _“That makes no sense at all.”_ Seulgi responds.

But Joohyun understands, because she feels it too. Wendy was in press conferences sitting beside other kind and pretty brand endorsers and Irene’s halfway across the world or where Wendy meets with other rich and smart CEOs — the jealousy takes residence under Joohyun's skin and she doesn’t know how to deal with it.

So she stops walking, and as Wendy tilts her head in question, Irene plants a kiss on her cheek.

They register three voices chanting, _“Irene and Wendy sitting on a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G_ — _“_ before Joohyun rolls her eyes at the _children,_ briefly waving her hand goodbye as she ends the call.   
  
She slips an arm on Wendy's waist, gripping her possessively. Then a faint smile plays on her lips, Wendy understands.   
  
Around them, a man leaned against his motorcycle, a cigarette between his fingers. On the other end, there was a mother by a cafe bench, wrapped in a modest scarf cradling her newborn baby. Life was painted as it has always been, but when Joohyun brushes their lips together, the strokes and colors now flourish with a different picture.

.

They return after what the CEO thinks is the shortest seventy-two hours of her life, luggage heavy with all sorts of trinkets — chocolate, cheese fondue sets, luxury watches, and engraved wooden pocketknives.

But as they arrive at the airport, their bags aboard a separate car to United. She shoots a quick text to Seulgi and now, with Rosé in the passenger seat and Wendy holding Joohyun’s hand beside her, they’re off to a magazine shoot for TIME’s Korea.

As the two of them enter the venue, crew members immediately led them to their respective makeup rooms.

After almost half an hour, the supermodel walks over to the set, dressed in a black tank top underneath a gold-sequined dress, with a long diamond drop choker, thick high-heeled boots and black knee-high socks, topped off with a blazer idly placed above her shoulders. She initially thought she was overdressed, but she isn’t the only glamorous one in the room. 

Wendy came out shortly after her, wearing a baby blue turtleneck accentuated with the same-colored scarf, tucked in leather pants and a saint laurent belt with a silver buckle. The look was finished with a three-button wool coat and elastic velvet gloves.

Lisa Manoban soon followed, black long hair with bangs, complemented with an all-black, tube and silk suit. She appeared rather simple, contrary to all her achievements in the soccer field. She's the country’s number one forward, scoring forty and assisting seventeen this year alone. Recently, she led the women’s national team to the win the FIFA World Cup.

They exchange brief greetings and Wendy learns the star athlete likes to dance, too. Before their conversation delves deeper, another female walks into the set. It was Im Yoona, looking classy in an elaborately designed laced dress with added sequins that hugged her figure perfectly.

She was the epitome of brains and beauty, as the country’s youngest lawmaker, she was elected to the legislature at nineteen years old. From then on, she’s fought to legalize elective abortion, authored bills for climate action, and decreased the hunger rate with inclusive sustainability.

“Hello!” Someone calls from behind the four of them, it was Kim Jisoo. Wendy chuckles internally at the thought that even their photographer was attractive and world-famous. Jisoo was not only incredibly talented, she’s also a woman of congeniality.

She begins shaking of the four girls’ hands, “I’m Jisoo, I’ll be handling you all from behind the camera.” She says, her voice cheerful.

A crew man approaches, “We’re just waiting for one more.” And Jisoo instantly grins at that, “She’s the best part of today’s shoot, no offense.”

“None taken.” Yoona chuckles.

And Lisa’s eyebrows shoot up, gaze directed to the photographer, “Who?”

And before Jisoo can respond, the sound of heels clicking against the tiled surface echoes in the room. She walked with slow, clear steps, the ruffles down the front her dress swaying with her.  
  
Wendy feels as if the world is blurring on its edges, the noises floating in her head growing increasingly louder.  
  
She remembers _her_ , the eyes, the sound of her laughter, her voice, her hair, even though it used to be a different color. And now that she's seeing _her_ again up close, Wendy has to force herself not to ruthlessly stare.

She sighs, then inhales a shaking breath, as her right hand unconsciously falls above her chest, where the dull and inconsolable ache beneath her ribcage sharpens at _her_ name.  
  
Jisoo replied, “Kim Jennie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's all hop on the jendy agenda 🤩


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a 9k because i love y'all !!
> 
> The songs here are:  
> 1\. Bubbly – Colbie Caillat  
> 2\. Bloom – The Paper Kites  
> 3\. Friends – Ed Sheeran  
> 4\. Already Gone – Sleeping At Last
> 
> give them a listen, i assure you they're good!

Five years ago, it was Wendy’s graduation day, and she was going to see her parents for the first time since she started university. They called her, saying the flight got delayed and Wendy should have _known_ but at the time she felt too triumphant, that she could finally share all her years’ worth of joy and successes.

But it all came crashing down. The voices on the other line that were once brimming with love and excitement became filled with regret. She drops the phone, the metal pounding against the floor, and at first everything was blurry and dark, and she doesn’t believe it was true. She picks up her coat, sends a message to Seulgi she’ll be late for the ceremony, and she runs.

She enters the embassy with bleeding hope that it was a mistake, and a Korean man in a suit approaches her somberly and she tries her best to focus, to adjust her eyes to the red and yellow text on the news “ _Flight 815 bound to Boston crashes, 150 confirmed dead._ ” No, she shakes her head, but she feels something crumble inside of her, the weight of ancient sorrow. She turns toward the door and her feet bring her to the place that will take the pain’s sharp edges away.

And it was only supposed to be a drunken night where she returns to the female dormitory wasted. But the girl’s eyes were pretty and her kisses made Wendy forget, so she wakes up in that model’s bed and leaves without a trace, hurriedly running barefoot across the cracked concrete pavement.

The truth is often a terrible thing, and Wendy wishes she were someone else. That she was living in a reality where she would have made different choices. But the truth is a terrible, scary thing, and she knows the theory of multiple universes where you did everything differently was nothing but hypothetical.

So Wendy spends her remaining nights in the dorm formulating a future that would make her parents proud, she writes a business plan and a starting inventory on a company she’ll build from ruins. She had two degrees from the world’s most prestigious university, several awards, and agony — the perfect mixture for rags to riches.

Two days after, when they’re bound back to Korea, she tells her friends all about her plans.

“And I still have money from all my competitions.” Wendy says, checking the oxygen mask beneath her seat.

From her right, Seulgi positions a pillow behind her head. “I’ll take care of the business registration.”

“I’ll work out the design and logo.” Joy adds, lifting up the armrest.

“Wait,” Wendy stops fiddling with her seatbelt, “You guys want do this with me?”

“Of course, unnie.” Joy tells her, “We’re united like that.” She shoots her a grin.

“And I thought Seungwan was greasy.” Seulgi laughs and the youngest rolls her eyes.

Wendy doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t need to. Her friends know she’s acknowledged their words with gratefulness, and that truthfully, Wendy would have done the same. She would live in a world endlessly trying despite being scarcely rewarded because the three of them were _united_ like that.

By the end of their first month back, Wendy had finally emptied her parents' home. There was barely any stuff to clear — a small TV set, a twin-sized bed, cupboards that piled with dust — but Wendy wanted to delay, as much as she could, because as the house was left vacant she slowly deteriorated too. The loss crept into her heart like a bleak December frost, despite the ray of sun and flowers blooming outside her.  
  
She felt the caverning pain in her chest, of how cruel it truly was to love something that death could touch. And Wendy felt like dying, but she remembered the only thing she had left to live for, and so she continues to.  
  
She spent the all of her nights and days exhausted in that rented space. Wendy conducted experiments in a make-shift laboratory that was only separated from her two friends’ office by a wobbly divider, and some substances she used had a foul smell and they all had to work with the door open. But that wasn't the hardest part, no, Seulgi and Joy eventually became attuned to the noises in the lab, where each concoction was something new and amazing to behold, and the three of them got used to strange odors and the outside weather infiltrating their sense of smell.

But the longer Wendy waited and tried, the more that she felt like she was wasting their time and skill. Sooyoung had been scouted by a great deal of software companies, even a recruiter from Amazon visited their office. But each calling card she received would automatically be thrown in the trash, her heart was set on working for and with United.

Every time Seulgi scheduled appointments with companies to invest in them, every single one would say _“I’m sorry our budget’s set,”_ but would immediately offer her a slot in their firm, that she had the proficiency, background, and eloquence that would be perfect for them. But Seulgi, _oh-so-kind_ Seulgi, would say that if it wasn’t United they were interested in, then she would have to walk out the door.

Of course, Seungwan had a fair share of business callers too, after all she was expanding her study on genetic scissoring all the while forming cutting-edge discoveries. But Wendy knew they just needed the right push, the right opportunity to finally make it — and it came. They had four months until global hotel giant would come to Korea and administer their bidding. So they worked and worked, from dusk to dawn until that fateful day arrived, and they won. Then at night they decided to celebrate with halmeoni, Seulgi and Joy went home wasted yet _happy_ , and Wendy didn’t want to head back just yet.  
  
She needed a breather, and so she walks with lightness in her steps. Her hands were in her pockets and the pale moonlight held a certain sway over her. She walks past homes, some cars were pulling into driveways, the lights were turned off, and he early November breeze lifts her blonde hair gently, the trees were making a soft fluting sound that resembled music.  
  
Wendy would like to believe her parents were proud of her. Her father styled his hair that day, something he hadn't done for ages. Her mother wore lipstick, she told her over the phone. Wendy will never forget how they looked like, how they looked at her. But one of the things she fears the most is that one day she would wake up and forget the sound of their voices. Her mother calling her name.

She walks still, raising her head. And she hopes that wherever her feet choose to rest will keep her moving until she finds a new home.  
  
She stops, resurrecting memories and images in her head replaced by music — a brown-haired girl singing whilst playing guitar on one wooden bench. Wendy stops, standing momentarily frozen, because despite the tip of the singer’s nose slightly reddening and her hair windblown, her voice was beautiful, and it felt like a long and gratifying embrace.

Wendy comes even closer, bearing witness to her beauty, and the singing girl looks up to smile and stare back then all Wendy could think of was how radiant the girl looked against the dim sky.

“Hello,” She says to her. Wendy looks toward the ground and it takes her a moment to form a response.

“You have a really nice voice.”

“I know.” The girl says, and Wendy gazes at the shrugging singer, seemingly accustomed to the compliment.

“But thank you…” She trails off, and Wendy finishes for her.

“Wendy,” she starts, “Son Wendy.”

The girl sets her guitar down and offers her a hand. “Thank you Wendy, I’m Kim Jennie.”

Wendy still stood without moving, her hands unconsciously taking the woman’s as she begins observing the girl in front of her. She definitely wasn’t singing there to earn money, because aside from the fact that there was no one around except for the two of them, the girl looked like a human gucci. Her sweater, shoes, belt, and even her guitar had some kind of gucci branding over it and Wendy can't comprehend how the girl still looked cute. Like, _really cute,_ and —

Jennie taps on the vacant spot beside her, interrupting Wendy’s thoughts, “Do you want to sit with me?”

It took a second again before Wendy realizes what the girl was asking. She shook her head, “I’d prefer to walk actually.”

She starts turning away, she needed to move along. But the younger girl joins her. “Let’s go then.”

She stands, leaves her guitar _(because who would steal an acoustic guitar at 1am)_ and they set off side by side, falling into an easy rhythm. Wendy learns that Jennie is from New Zealand, and that the girl was indeed, a singer. She’s training in Korea and tonight she couldn’t fall asleep, thus the singing-by-the-river thing.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Wendy tells her, “What if there were murderers or thieves?” She says as they’re walking around the area, still relatively close to the singer’s guitar _(just in case.)_

Jennie giggles, “But I met you instead.”

“What if I _am_ a murderer?”

“I don’t think so, you have the kindest eyes.”

 _What is it with eye compliments?_ Wendy thought to herself as she gets a vague recollection of a woman with stars in her eyes, then Wendy also remembers she still doesn’t understand what the singer meant. “How does one have kind eyes?”

“You have softness in them, like you see only the good in people.” Jennie responds, and Wendy discerns the singer has an accent. “And I still notice it now, even though you’re barely looking at me.”

Wendy knows she was being teased, but she’s still searching worriedly for the right words to explain _I can’t look at you directly because you’re so fucking attractive and the sentences are fumbling in my head—_

“Humor me, why are you here at this hour?” Jennie asks giggling. And normally, Wendy would have spared minimal details, but the girl in front of her looked kind, too; so for the first time she talks about MIT and United and her parents’ passing on, and even in her ears she sounded pitiful but Jennie only smiled, letting her continue.  
  
Thy were an unpredictable pair, but they walked in close steps, their shoulders touching, strangers sharing stories. And so the next hour Wendy talks about the business and the bidding, about how happy she was that finally, she could let Sooyoung and Seulgi have the life and career they deserve.

Jennie asked questions now and then, but for the most part she had let Wendy ramble. And as their conversations grew, the temperature dropped, and Wendy notices the girl crossing her arms to hug herself. So she wraps her coat around the singer, and Jennie leans against her while rubbing her palms together, the friction providing heat.

“See, a killer wouldn’t do this.” Jennie says chuckling. And they’re retracing their earlier path before they’re once again in front of the same bench, with the same wooden guitar.

The singer moves away from her and packs the instrument in its case.

“I had a good time talking to you.” Wendy says.

“Me too.” Jennie answers as she slings the guitar over her shoulders. She steps closer, and Wendy realizes she doesn’t mind the proximity at all. “Do you maybe want to, walk me home?”

Wendy wishes she could, but she needed to get some sleep and take a bath and review the terms of their contract and she foresees that from now on, she’ll only get busier. So she shakes her head disappointedly.

Jennie sighs, nodding and turning, and Wendy watches as the singer started away. It would have ended there — and later Wendy would wonder whether she should have let it — but instead she took a step after her, the words coming out automatically.

“Jennie,” she called, “Wait.”

When the singer faces Wendy, a small smile was playing on her lips. “Can I walk you home next time? But only when we’re both free and if you want to and—”

Jennie giggles. “Of course, Wendy.” The other half of her face hid behind the drop sleeve of her sweater, but Wendy knew she was smiling. “Text me?”

Wendy fishes out her phone from her coat. “What’s your number?”

As she recites the digits, her voice was clear and lyrical even a few feet away. Wendy nods, clicks save, and she stares at the singer’s retreating figure before she also begins turning her sneakers. When she walks back to the office, clutching her phone in her pocket, she wonders why the device felt heavier than any of her competition medals.

.

Wendy’s not surprised that her predictions had been correct. On one hand, that same morning there were men and women in expensive suits lining up outside their dingy office, and soon enough they had to transfer to a better one, all funded by Marriott as a legal inclusion in their partnership. On the other, that also meant it’s been four days and she still hasn’t called _her_.

“So she’s pretty?” Sooyoung asks, blowing on the noodles of her instant cup ramen.

Wendy bobs her head up and down. “And she’s got a nice voice?” The youngest continues and Wendy nods again, but with more force that the table shakes along with her.

“Like from one to ten, how good?” Seulgi butts in, as she sets down her microwaved bibimbap.

Wendy takes a bite off her egg sandwich, “Ten.”

“Then there’s two possible return values, unnie.” Joy starts, adjusting the chopsticks in her hands. “She now thinks you’re a conceited prick for leaving her hanging.”

Wendy sends out an impatient shrug, “What’s the other one?”

Seulgi shoots her a wry grin, “Or, she’s still waiting for your call.”

Wendy thinks it was meant to reassure her, but she only pulls her knees up, resting her chin on them. The two friends faace her with earnest expressions. “Just go for it, unnie.”

“Ask her out for coffee or something, then walk her home after.” Seulgi says, “And if she wants more, then go _do it._ ” She attempts at a wink.

Wendy rolls her eyes, “It’s okay Seul, we all know you can’t.” And the three begin laughing. Seulgi asks about putting posters up for employee openings, Wendy nods in agreement. And as they finish their lunch break, Joy returns to her cubicle to start designing and Seulgi lists down the requirements and qualifications.

Meanwhile, as Wendy comes up to the lab, her fingers hover on the newest contact name and she accidentally presses on the call button. _Holy shit. Holy shi—_

_“Hello?”_

Wendy ignores the faint feeling that the person on the other line was waiting for a call. She brings the device over her ear.

_“Who is this?”_

Joy’s words echo in her head, _“Just go for it, unnie.”_

“Uhm, hi.” _Fuck_ , she hopes Jennie can’t sense her nerves. “It’s Wendy, Wendy Son.”

 _“Oh.”_ She hears a bit of movement, and she really hopes that she hasn’t blown her chance yet. _“It took you four days, huh. Did anything happen?”_

And Wendy thinks about how there are dozens of new calling cards on her desk, tons of emails for partnerships, and how this lab alone is twice the size of their previous office, but she thinks it’s all so boring. She goes with something else. “I was trying to work up the courage to talk to you again.”

Jennie giggles, soft and musical and it has Wendy smiling too. _“How smooth, Wendy Son.”_ And from the background, she hears someone call for Jennie’s name. _“I’m in the middle of rehearsals and I need to go. But do you want to watch me later?”_

Wendy starts to think it’s the beginning of luck-filled days. “Of course, Jennie. Text me the address?"

The other girl hums, then she chuckles, _“Hopefully you’ll have enough courage to pass by.”_

Wendy smiles, wishing she could see the expression on the singer’s doll-like features. But the call ends and Wendy had to meet executives from that transnational merchandising business, and as she sifts through the terms of their partnership, Wendy can’t stop thinking about a cute smile and a golden voice.

.

It was well into 6pm, and Wendy was running late. So she brings her car, the only thing her parents left with her, and she navigates to the address on her mobile phone. She hadn’t anticipated the traffic, too. So she enters the charming place in hastened steps, as the scuffed wooden floors creak against her boots and the aroma of coffee beans invades her. The establishment had Christmas lights hanging around its walls and metallic chairs on a bare floor, then Wendy decides to order her go-to, a vanilla latte.

The barista looks tired, almost everyone in the room perhaps. The world is an exhausting place, with indefinite outcomes and uncertainties but Wendy feels a glimmer as her eyes follow that singer on the stage, with a guitar on her lap.

“Good evening, everyone.” Jennie begins, her voice light and sweet. “Sorry for starting just now, I was waiting for someone.”

And Wendy knows how grey and unsure the world could be, but she’s quite certain the singer was looking at her and talking about her.

“So _finally_ ," she chuckles and the crowd laughs too, "Here’s a song for that latecomer friend.” Then everyone goes silent.

 _I've been awake for a while now  
_ _You've got me feeling like a child now  
_ _'Cause every time I see your bubbly face  
_ _I get the tingles in a silly place_

Wendy only stands by a table near the counter, content to watch and listen and take it all in. She isn’t sure what the singer meant, but as she rotates her glass, her mind tunes out everything else for the next twenty minutes and she only hears the sound of _her_ voice.

Soon enough she was standing outside the café, the breeze was light and the night was relatively warmer. Jennie came out shortly after fixing her stuff, and she stands beside the CEO. “So are you going to walk me home now?” She teased again, but never in a way that felt mean to Wendy.

Wendy looks up. She has been given intellect, and more often than not she's spent it trying to comprehend the enormity of each decision she takes, and what it profers in return.  
  
“Actually,” She knows the weather was just right, “Can you come with me somewhere? I’ll drive.”

Jennie nods, then wonders aloud where they might be headed. Wendy simply takes the guitar from her and tucks it safely on the backseat. She drives off and Jennie asks if she can roll the windows down. Wendy only nods, and then she registers the scent of coconut as the other girl’s fingers run through her own hair. The music from the radio along with Jennie’s occasional humming doesn’t last long, it took them less than fifteen minutes to get there.

As she pulls over in the parking lot, Jennie stares at her.  
  
“You’re kidding.”

Wendy cracks a smile, “You mentioned you wanted a dog.”

“So you took me to a pet café?”

“Yes, and if we’re lucky you can even adopt one.”

Jennie shrieks then runs out, Wendy chuckles at the sight. The singer then twists at her direction, still seated on the driver’s seat, “Come on!” And the younger girl’s hand gestured toward her so Wendy steps out quickly, locking the car doors.

As soon as they enter, Jennie crouches down to pet a dog. When she stands back up, Wendy gently guides her by the shoulder and they walk over to a vacant table, then she orders dinner for the both of them.

“What kind of dog do you want?” Wendy asks.

Immediately Jennie says, “I’m good with any, but a German shepherd would be nice so I can train him to be a seeing-eye dog.”

Wendy looks at her, as the singer's fingers pat a dog in tender motions, “But you’re not blind.”

“I could be one day.”

Grinning, Wendy shakes her head with admiration. Cute, with a great voice, and far-sighted, Wendy thought, _how perfect._

Refreshments and food arrive, along with a brown dog wagging his tail at Jennie’s feet, tongue hanging out as if he’d discovered a new best friend. As soon as Jennie settles him on her lap, he nuzzles at her hand, and Wendy sat there in content silence.

“Do you like dogs too?” Jennie asks her, and she swallows the food in her mouth before she answers.

“They’re okay.” She shrugs.

The singer lets out an aggrieved sigh and Wendy laughs, throwing her hands up in defense, “I don’t hate them! I just don’t like them as much as you do.”

The other girl pouts, one hand brushing against the Pomeranian and the other twirling her pasta.

“You seem to have a penchant for him.” Wendy remarks.

Jennie’s eyes light up, like she wants to squeal but not at the expense of disturbing the reverent dog. “I do.”

So then, Wendy decides.

She pushes out of her chair and excuses herself. A few minutes pass, and she comes back to slide a piece of paper in front of the singer. Jennie raises her brow, then her eyes widen looking up from the adoption sheet on the table then to Wendy.

As the night ends, and Wendy pulls over in front of Jennie’s driveway, they step out of the car while the guitar was slung comfortably on her back and Jennie cradles a sleeping _Kuma,_ the dog’s collar read. And as the two of them now stand in front of _her_ door, Wendy begins to talk, “I know you probably know this already but you should buy him food soon, and water bowls, and a bed with chew toys and grooming supplies and—”

Then Jennie leaned right in and kissed her. Wendy was stunned.

“I didn’t mean to cut you off, I like listening to you talk.” The singer backs away, but still immeasurably close. Wendy only absorbs the compliment in silence, and the other girl continues. “But I’ve wanted to kiss you since that night by the river, so I did now.”

Wendy closes her eyes at those words. _Is this real? Am I dreaming?_

Jennie giggles, “Yes, Wendy. This is real.”

And Wendy opens her eyes to see that smile that makes her feel like it’s the first warm day of spring despite the chill outdoors.

Jennie kisses her again, on the cheek this time, “Call me when you’re free, my treat.”

And Wendy only nods, staring at the recently shut door for several long seconds before she walks back to her car, touching her lips as the sense of excitement and pure wonder evades her. At that moment, she could feel the promise in it. The promise that every kiss would feel just like that.

The next weeks were one of those rare and wonderful interludes in which almost everything made Wendy believe nothing could be better. The employee interviews were excellent because the people were not only brilliant and clever, but they had the kind of energy and mindset that knew whatever they were working on was for something bigger, something that transforms the lives of more than their own.

And the money and funding was well, and the offers kept increasing in number. Granted, there were power-hungry ones who had ill intentions, but the three of them, along with Wendy’s newest secretary, made sure to keep everything on hold before they were a hundred percent sure it would work.

Then of course, there was Jennie.

Sometimes, it was comprised of simple moments and even simpler pleasures. Like when it’s early morning and Wendy shoots her a _“Had a nice sleep?”_ text, and it’s a few hours before Jennie replies with, _“Yes, I dreamt about you.”_ And that alone makes Wendy’s day fantastic, but it gets even better when Jennie sends her selfies in between her breaks.

The evenings used to be what Wendy dreaded the most, where she was left with her own thoughts. But then they have grown into something she looked forward to the most, and she had Jennie to thank for that.  
  
When Wendy hears her voice as Jennie searches the faces in the crowd in front of her, then as soon as their eyes lock, Wendy would a flush rising on the other girl’s cheeks.

 _In the morning when I wake  
_ _And the sun is coming through  
_ _Oh you fill my lungs with sweetness  
_ _And you fill my head with you_

And Wendy drives her home again and in between the kisses, Wendy feels the attachment growing deeper, that she was falling too fast and there was nothing on earth she could do stop it. And the best part is, Wendy didn’t need to.

Because Jennie kisses her with tenderness, with the soft brushing of her lips and the feel of _her_ bare skin electric against Wendy’s, and she once again reveled in the sound of her. _She_ tells her over and over how much she adored her, Jennie’s breath panting as she collapses on top of Wendy.

In the darkness, Jennie would gently trace her finger over Wendy’s arms and they talk about her scars. Regrets that beat on Wendy’s bloodstream like an unwelcome disease after she made what she thinks is the biggest mistake of her life. She tells her about how it ripped straight into her soul and sometimes, she doesn’t fall asleep at night because the madness in her brain doesn’t quiet down.

And they would talk until the early hours of the morning, and Wendy knows she’s being listened to. Jennie just had this way of silently saying: I want the whole of you, the depth and the breadth of all that you are and the light that shines in between your broken parts. And they make love once more, again, and again. But Wendy knows, against the rise and fall of _her_ chest, that what they have is a connection that transcended beyond the physical act.

She’d grown to appreciate the quiet way Jennie would slip from the bed first thing on Sunday mornings to feed Kuma and write lyrics on her notebook, trying her best not to wake Wendy. Usually the CEO would doze again — after all she’s only had such good sleep with the singer by her side — only to be awakened later with a cup of hot coffee and _her_ presence beside her, softly strumming her guitar. Sometimes they’d while away an hour or more on the bed, Wendy on her laptop as Jennie moves to the kitchen to make them breakfast.

She takes another sip of the coffee, listening to the clink of the spatula in the pan.

“How’s your song going?” She asks, looking up from her screen.

“I think it’s done.” Jennie responds as she reaches up into the cabinet to pull down two plates.

Wendy stands, sets her cup on the table and grins cheekily, “The eggs or the song?”

Jennie laughs, “Both, actually.”

She puts a piece of toast on the other girl’s plate, but she reaches for Jennie’s hand first and gently pulls her closer, settling for a kiss on the singer’s cheek.

“Will you come watch me later?” Jennie asks, as her bare thighs slowly sat on Wendy’s.

Wendy holds her by the waist on one hand, as the other scoops out scrambled eggs. She hums in agreement, then Jennie reminds her not to drive because the weather forecasts were expecting snow soon.

Wendy hums again before she looks up at the singer, “So your song, can I hear it?” She couldn’t hide her eagerness.

Jennie only pats her hair, soft and silky against her fingers. “Come by later, okay? I’ll play it there.”

Then Wendy nods, pushing another forkful of food into her mouth.

Jennie chuckles, “That good?”

Then she leans in to kiss Wendy on the forehead as the CEO responds, “It’s great.”

After breakfast, Jennie resumed strumming her guitar on the bed, singing along to incoherent words while looking at the lyric-filled notebook, then Wendy only sighs. Even as she got into the shower, Wendy found she couldn’t stop thinking about the song, and that some part of her hoped it would be about her.

As the CEO pushes the doors of Peek-A-Boo open, she glances at her wrist. She had a good five minutes left before Jennie’s set, since her visit to the office was short as Wendy only had to check the agar plates and the zones of inhibition. She orders the same drink, smoothing her coat down, then a voice looms over the café speakers.

“Hey everyone, it’s me again.” Jennie says, and Wendy cranes her head to the singer’s direction. “I don’t know if some of you remember, but one time I sang for a latecomer friend.” Jennie isn’t looking at her, eyes bashfully looking at the audience which was more crowded than usual.

Even from where Wendy is, she’s keenly aware of the singer's jitters.

“Anyway, I wrote this song for her, and I hope she likes it.”

Wendy hears clapping and cheering, but her eyes only watched Jennie.

 _We're not, no we're not friends  
_ _Nor have we ever been  
_ _We just try to keep those secrets in our lives_

Wendy stares at the girl in front of her. The everyday they spent with each other was not only easy, but felt indefinably right. There were no arguments, no stark disagreements. It felt as though Wendy could say anything to her and she would intuitively understand. And when they stumble through dark streets at 3am, Wendy realizes it’s only Jennie she wants to get lost with. It’s Jennie she wants to escape with and it’s _her_ and Kuma that she wants to come home to after an excruciating day at work. She wants every adventure and everything on earth, be spent with Jennie.

 _Friends should sleep in other beds  
_ _And friends shouldn't kiss me like you do  
_ _And I know that there's a limit to everything  
_ _But my friends won't love me like you  
_ _No, my friends won't love me like you do_

“You and I should be more than friends.” The singer ends, looking at her expectantly and Wendy knows how important it is that she says yes.

Jennie's round cheeks visibly redden against the stage lights, and Wendy feels like all the blood rushes to her face, then she belatedly realizes it’s the sound of her heart beating really fast. She motions for the door and weaves through the crowd as Jennie finishes her last song.

And as soon as it’s done, Wendy steps out the door. Jennie thanks the crowd, maneuvers the same way, and they’re standing side-by-side, both clad in black wool coats. Wendy reaches for her arm, and as the singer turns to her looking flustered, Wendy leans in for a quick kiss. It was hard not to, especially when the cascade of brown hair and deep-set eyes were looking right at Wendy.

She pulls away, drawing a deep sigh, “Friends don’t kiss each other like that.”

Jennie only nodded at the truth of her words, and Wendy continues, “So be my girlfriend, Kim Jennie.” She clasps their hands together, and outside the glass walls of this café, Wendy learns how unguarded, vulnerable love shouldn’t be feared.  
  
“I want to wake up with you every morning, and you’re making coffee as I pour cereal in our bowls. I want to come home every night to you and Kuma and watch you play guitar, and I’m not there yet but I’ll give you the life you deserve and that means nothing less than pure happiness. You’re all I want Kim Jennie, all of you.”

And as Wendy sighs, Jennie mimics it. “I love you, Son Seungwan." No response was more fitting.

They laugh, and kiss, and snow starts to fall.

Later, as had become their habit, they walk by the Han River hand-in-hand, their feet swaying with ease.

“There can be no two identical snowflakes, right?” Jennie asks her, and Wendy looks at the girl with remote amazement, the singer was utterly _perfect._

“Somewhat, it’s possible but rare.” Wendy starts, “Because when the crystals of water are exposed to slightly different conditions, even if you started with two identical ones, they wouldn't be the same by the time they reach the surface of your hand.”

She looks up as a snowflake falls on her palm, and she compares it to the other girl’s. “See, they’re different.”

Then Jennie looks at her teasingly, “That just means we aren’t meant to be, babe.”

Wendy shakes her head in a laugh, “Babe? That’s a cute pet name.”

“It’s because you’re cute.”

“You’re definitely cuter,” Wendy pauses, testing it out on her tongue, “babe.”

And they laugh again, bodies tingling with so much love.

As Christmas was only a day away, they spent much of the weekend buying decorations for Jennie’s apartment. Seulgi and Sooyoung would be away, spending the holidays with their families and it was the first time in three years that they didn't need to worry about Seungwan, because she already had someone to spend it with.

Soon, while Wendy worked on neatly placing the ornaments with a certain color pattern, Jennie was in the kitchen making pie. And they passed an enjoyable afternoon, chatting and laughing, as Jennie’s apron was coated with flour. Dinner time came and Wendy had ordered a simple feast for the two of them, salad, steak, potatoes, and fruits. Then Jennie brought out the pumpkin pie from the fridge, Wendy’s eyes widening in delight then they found themselves in bed again.

Jennie kisses her hair, then rests her chin on top of her head. “Merry Christmas, babe. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Wendy whispered back.

“I know we said no presents,” Jennie says, "Technically it isn’t a present, but I sent my demo to a recording studio.”

Wendy smiles softly. She had always dreamed with her, hoped that Jennie cold one day show the world what she could do with all that passion inside. She sang, one after another, hymns from a well-worn songbook that curated comfort in Wendy.  
  
"What’s it about?”

Jennie slides downward, leaning into her. “It’s about you, babe.” She mutters, “Every single song is about you.”

Wendy sighs, this is all that she had deeply craved, and she relishes in the quiet bits between that confession of just how much she had meant to Jennie. She understands how amazing grace can grant the sight we needed. And as her mind wanders back, their mouths came together again and she felt the singer’s tongue push against her own, and her fingers traced through her hair and down her back.

As Christmas morning rolled in, they wake up at the same time, the snow blanketing the windows as it continues to fall.

Jennie turns to her, “Iwanttoeatwafflesforbreakfast.”

Wendy laughs, “What, babe?”

“Iwanttoeatwafflesforbreakfast.”

“Come again?”

“Gladly.”

And they both burst out laughing, revealing white teeth and happy grins. Then they make love again, and again.

The holidays went by quickly, new year’s eve was spent making popcorn and drinking sparkling cider in the singer’s apartment. And then they flew to Jeju, spending a couple of days of quiet walks on the beach together, visiting music shops and art galleries. But unfortunately, it wasn’t possible for the both of them to be gone that long. Wendy had become busier than ever, with the company growing larger and the deals becoming bigger, and Jennie was still training even if she already had the makings of a star. They both had the ability and the desire to be the best in the world, and they were each other’s inspiration.

And when Wendy finds out the recording studio sent Jennie’s demo back saying they liked it, and that she should send more, they meet in that same bench near the river and they kiss, the sound of the water’s waves seem to roar in approval. When Jennie kisses her back, it becomes a mutual understanding that this will mark the beginning of a wonderful, life-altering decision to make this relationship work.

Before long, the snow has stopped and spring was nearing. On one Friday evening, an hour after the sun had gone down, Jennie visited United’s office for the first time as Wendy skips toward her, still in her white lab coat, not bothering to hide her excitement.

She holds the singer’s hand, “Come on babe, let’s go up!”

Jennie chuckles at the older girl’s antics, as they fight the urge to race on the flight of stairs. Once they’re outside the door, Wendy asks the singer to wash her hands on the several stationed metal sinks, then wraps latex gloves on her own hands. And before Jennie could ask if she should take her coat off, Wendy excitably escorts her inside and despite her clothing, Jennie shivers, breath coming out in little puffs.

As they pass through the white countertops filled with different paraphernalia, microscopes, flasks, and others that Jennie can’t really name, Wendy’s colleagues pay them no mind, attention focused on their work. Soon, they stop just by the back, right in front of what seems to be a chamber with cylindrical tubes and numbered lines.

Wendy points to the screen beside it. “So babe, I started with humid air and then I had to make sure the temperature was low enough until ice crystals started to form.”

Jennie only nods, still staring at the time-lapse photography playing in front of her. It looked like a piece of ice, but as Wendy turns a tiny knob, arms begin to extend out from the corners. Jennie’s eyes twinkle in awe.

“I adjusted the humidity there. And then if I make it even cooler,” Wendy twists another knob and the screen shows branches that begin shooting off the arms, then Jennie understands, “They’re all identical snowflakes!”

Wendy turns to gauge the singer’s reaction, and to her surprise, her girlfriend starts crying.

“Babe, are you okay?” Wendy asks her, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

Jennie squeezes this hand on her cheek, feels the soft skin despite the gloves, and she envelopes Wendy in an embrace. “I love you.”

The older girl chuckles, not noticing the seriousness behind the singer’s voice. “I love you too.”

Jennie hugs her even tighter, and they stay like that for a while before Wendy speaks, “What are you thinking about?”

The younger girl lets go, turning to the screen instead. “How many of these can you make?”

“Oh!” Wendy shifts, and Jennie subtly sniffles as she fixes herself. “It depends on the size of the chilled plate, but these same patterns can only happen in the lab.”

With the sapphire glass now in Wendy’s hands, she uses a photomicroscope to take its picture. And as Jennie watches closely by her side, they’re startled by a voice.

“So this is the singer you’ve been hiding, Seungwan.” Seulgi says, opening her arms to offer Jennie a quick hug. “It’s nice to meet you, I'm Seulgi.”

Jennie stares at a face that showed only kindness and chastity, and then another girl hugs her. “I’m Sooyoung, you can call me Joy.”

And Jennie feels there was an underlying strength to this girl's embrace, like a warning.

“I wasn’t hiding her! We’ve just.. been busy.” Wendy says, and Jennie only smiles.

“I’m glad I finally have the chance to say hello, I’ve heard so much about the both of you.”

“Only good things, of course.” Seulgi says, not hiding the merriment in her expression.

And they spent the rest of the afternoon in the office’s pantry, the two friends filling Jennie with embarrassing and colorful college events and how the three of them met, then the singer also shared some details about herself, stuff Wendy had already known. The conversation flows as easily as it does with Wendy, and Jennie realizes the CEO tended to understate just how much the two women meant to her.

Wendy laughs when Joy burns her tongue on a cup of tea, but the older girl immediately motions for the freezer to get some ice, gently patting the top of her head in comfort. And when Seulgi talks about this new brand of grape ice cream that she likes, Joy sends a mock expression of _how boring_ and Wendy laughs, but her eyes were all on Seulgi, letting the friend know whatever it was about was important to them too.

And Jennie just watches the trio in the acute way she does, punctuated by laughter and stories. And when they went back home to her apartment, Jennie knows she's found the kind of love that will always stand by her side. The kind of love that's become her favorite thing — someone who shows her just how deeply you can feel, just how deeply you can love. And there is nothing more beautiful.

.

The flowers begin to bloom and malachite-green spaces are bathed in delightful hues of the cherry blossoms, with the plinking and pattering of the leaves outside. Wendy knows she has fallen mercilessly, with the way Jennie's touches, with calloused fingertips yet soft hands ring through Wendy's bones and how the late-night walks had her singing along too, and the way the singer would wrap her arms around Wendy’s at night that made her feel as though the entire world was safe and theirs to conquer, even for just a moment.

And so Wendy wonders what happened, what she did wrong that one day she comes home to the other half of their apartment missing, wardrobe empty and Kuma nowhere to be found. She thinks of all their places — Jeju, Han River, Peek-A-Boo — and as she dashes for the door she sees that note, it was even in her favorite color.

And when Wendy lies awake on the wooden flooring of _their_ home, she wonders if Jennie left with the same ease she bared Wendy’s heart open with.

“Unnie, you need to come out.” Joy bangs on the door loudly, and Seungwan only turns the lock because the noise was making the pounding in her head grow sharper, the ache beneath her ribcage suffocating.

She lies back down on the floor, just a few feet away from the entrance, and she feels like she hasn’t slept for a week. Maybe because it was true, she hasn’t really kept count. But she thinks if she waits a bit more, Jennie will come back and they’ll be together again, happy and in love.

“Seungwan-ah, please eat something.” Seulgi tells her, but Wendy only shakes her head. Not only at the remark, but to remove that nagging feeling inside her head that knows better, the part of her that understands it was over the moment Jennie walked out the door without leaving any trace.

“Unnie, we’re opening the new headquarters today.” Wendy looks up at Joy slowly, and then she meets her gaze.

“W-where?” She croaks out, her lips cracked and her mouth as dry as sawdust. She remembers the pair visited three days ago, apparently they already had enough funding to buy the building Wendy has been eyeing for so long. Seulgi just signed the papers on her behalf.

“You need to come with us, Wan-ah.” She lifts Wendy by the shoulders, “ _Please._ ”

And Wendy looks at her, how her friend’s words are drawn from a deep, hidden well of sadness.

Wendy wishes it could be quieter, that she could melt further into the kitchen floor because the answers were still missing and it wasn't like math at all. There was no formula, no equation to tell her what she needs to do.   
  
But Wendy knows, with they way her friends are looking at her, she has to keep moving, So despite the unbearable pain, Wendy steels herself. She stands up, wobbling limbs, and she feels it all. But as they step outside and Seungwan locks the door, she leaves the key beside the note.

Nobody lets go in an instant. You let go once. And then you let go again. And then again and again and again.

After the ribbon cutting and a long needed trip to halmeoni’s, Wendy comes back to work. And as she stares at the view of the Han River from her top-floor office, she doesn’t think about how it only looks half as incredible than when Jennie was by her side.

Instead, she purchases a new apartment in Gangnam, and when she goes to the grocery store to stock up on supplies, she sees _her_ favorite type of mac and cheese on sale, and she doesn’t buy it. And when she that familiar bottle of coconut shampoo that smells just like _her_ is on the next aisle, Wendy moves away.

Then on the way home from another lonely day, she cranks up the radio, the constant voices from the speaker filling the air in her new car, as if remonstrating she wasn't so alone. She drives in circles, raindrops starting to fall, then DJs and presumed experts were saying no such thing as perfect love exists.  
  
Wendy scoffs, turning them off, because they had never met _her_.

Everything with Jennie was perfect and genuine and maybe if Seungwan had more time, she would have found something about her that she didn’t like, something she really couldn’t stand. But the thing is she couldn’t find anything, and it made her angry.

The only thing that Wendy hated about Jennie was her dear departure, and it angers Wendy even more that she's left behind.

And every day she knows there’s a slant in her life's axis that will never return to normal, but she lives with it. She knows someday she’ll forget that café and that dog and every snowfall won't be about _her_ but until that time comes, Wendy keeps herself busy. She keeps moving. And she keeps letting the small details slide.

That when they release Voltage, a new power-dense battery with long-lasting energy yet still small and portable and the market goes crazy — every part of Wendy’s body was itching to call _her_ about the news, but she doesn’t. That night, she goes to a bar, brings home somebody else with a firmer grip and silver shoulder-length hair and Wendy doesn’t think, she makes the decision and she doesn’t look back.

Wendy realizes, sometimes you’re going to have to let one person go a thousand different times in a thousand different ways. You'll begin the process again when the sun rises, and it doesn't end at night because no day will ever be the same. You will take your steps forward, but you will take your steps back because somehow, the hope hasn’t completely died down.

It’s been about a year, and she's seated on her office when Seulgi places a Billboard magazine in front of her, the familiar face on the cover.

 **“Kim Jennie dominates the charts with her new #1 single, Already Gone.”**

Wendy stares, frantically typing on her computer as she listens to _her_ again, hearing _her_ voice after so long.

 _I want you to know that it doesn't matter  
_ _Where we take this road, but someone's gotta go_  
 _And I want you to know, you couldn't have loved me better  
_ _But I want you to move on, so I'm already gone_

And Wendy feels that ache, throbbing loudly against her skin. She reels over memories of a love she so desperately wants to hold onto, and she knows giving up isn’t any way instinctual.

She stands, Seulgi only pushes her down.

“She’s still in love with me. The song,” she taps at the magazine, “It’s about me.”

“I know.” Seulgi says, but the older girl isn’t moving. Wendy feels herself slowly growing with rage.

“I can win her back.”

“Wake up, _Seungwan._ ” Seulgi looks at her, arms crossed, chin jutting, and jaw tightening.

“Then _tell me_ what I’m not seeing.”

“What she left you for.”

“For her dreams, Seulgi!” Wendy’s voice rises and in all their years of friendship, this is the first time it has. “It’s for her future!”

Seulgi only yells back, “And you aren’t a part of it!”

It took several seconds for the older girl’s words to register, not only to Wendy, but even to the youngest watching them by the side, afraid to get too close.

“Unnie..” Joy intervenes.

“Stay out of this, Sooyoung.” Seulgi tells her, eyes still trained on Wendy.

“But you’re hurting her!” The tension in the room thickens, but the oldest doesn’t want to back down.

Seulgi knows how much hell Seungwan has been through, how much hate she’s subjected herself for making this mistake. And she can’t just watch Wendy throw all that progress away. She needs her Seungwan back, and if it means like _this_ , then she’ll do it.

“I’m hurting her?” She scoffs, still facing Wendy. “If I wanted to hurt you, then I wouldn’t have suggested going to Gwangjang. I wouldn’t have climbed that damn mountain just to fucking pray for—"

"I never asked you to!" Wendy shouts but Seulgi doesn’t stop, their voices are overlapping.  
  
"you! And every time I had to switch out and replace the magazines with Jennie on the cover! And I wouldn’t have paid Dispatch—”

“Unnie!” Joy yells again, and Seungwan stares, confused and irked that she’s the only one out of the loop.

“Dispatch?” Wendy asks, “What do you mean Dispatch?”

Seulgi sighs, but her voice doesn’t falter. “Jennie has been rising to fame even months ago, and we hid all the articles from you as best as we could. Then Dispatch called, saying they had proof you and Jennie used to date.”

Wendy’s face is blank, Seulgi couldn’t be serious.

“And I knew how it would affect both you and her negatively, so I signed a contract and paid them a shit ton of money to fuck off.”

Seulgi crouches down, notices how Wendy’s hands are trembling. Her voice turns low, “I wanted to help you, Seungwan.” She touches their hands together but Wendy dodges, hurt registers on Seulgi’s face before she continues. “But nothing in this world will fix you if you don’t want to move on.”

She backs away, turning to the youngest and her breaking voice betrays her bravado. “Let’s go, Sooyoung.”

Wendy hears the heels clack, and as soon as the door shuts, she bursts into tears. She goes to the bathroom, sitting on the toilet as she cries her heart out one last time.

Then she gets up, splashes cold water on her face, and she wipes herself with a hand towel. When she steps back out, she decides. She lets the delicate pattern of the life she built with _her_ dissipate, and she isn’t okay with it but she knows someday she will be, that in time, the wounds will close.

Wendy learns moving on isn’t always about speeding enthusiastically forward so much as it is about having one foot on the gas and the other on the brakes — releasing and accelerating in turn. Wendy learns she’s not a failure for getting to someplace amazing and still feeling like a part of herself is missing once she gets there.

Her two friends never really talked about it, they moved forward with an understanding that everything that happened was because they loved each other like family. And Wendy starts asking for forgiveness. From Sooyoung, because she had to bear witness to her older friends arguing like that. The youngest slams Wendy with her wireless keyboard, saying they should never _ever_ fight again. Then Wendy turns to Seulgi, and the CEO holds back every scathing emotion to stop herself from crying. Seulgi, who’s just _so kind_ , nods in understanding and engulfs her best friend in a hug. Next is Rosé, who had to handle all of Wendy’s downcast moods and the secretary only shrugs, _“I didn’t notice anything.”_ And Wendy laughs, smiley and genuine then Rosé continues, _“I’m glad you’re finally back, Miss Son.”_

But most of all, she asks forgiveness from herself. For losing in a game she never signed up for, for being so smart yet missing the signs she couldn’t have possibly seen. For having a real and perfect connection with a person who turns out, would abandon her in the end.

And it’s hard because the betrayal flipped her world upside down, and the bad things and memories don’t disappear in the blink of an eye. But Wendy lets the good ones come and change the form of her life with each new twist.

Like when they release that breakthrough line-up, and Wendy meets that model from five years ago who has, from the start, made her feel so different. Wendy found someone who challenges her — to change, to grow, and to expand and question what she knows or what she thought she knew. And they don’t always agree with each other, _heck,_ they bicker a lot, but sometimes all you need is that extra push, and Seungwan is certain Joohyun will push right back.

Wendy knows the wounds have closed, and that she’s strong enough to have survived it, to change from it.

The wounds have closed, but Wendy can’t help but sigh. A part of her wonders whether they will ever open again.


	8. Chapter 8

“Miss Son.”

Wendy hears it, but it’s slurry and unformed, like an underwater sound.

It takes a second before she realizes Jennie’s now in front of their group, and the voice calling on her is from a different direction.

“Miss Son,” Rosé says again, after bowing to the other women then facing Wendy with her voice low in a whisper, “A nurse from SNU Hospital called.“

Wendy turns to her, the world is slowly regaining its balance as she puts the hand on her chest back to her side, _we’ll be okay._

She looks at the secretary quizzically, then she excuses herself from the group and they move a few feet away.

Wendy has no hunch as to why they would call. She had no check-ups due, Seulgi was in Japan for a business deal, Joy was currently a guest speaker in a coding convention, and as her gaze flickers back to the group engaged in conversation, despite Joohyun’s unreadable expression outwardly studying her, the model was in good enough health.

So Wendy asks, “What did they say?” Her voice steady.

“Someone named Mrs. Choi suffered from a heart attack.”

She blinks, “What?”

Rosé adjusted the CEO’s phone in her hands, “Mrs. Choi suffered from a heart attack, Miss Son. They said she needed surgery. Do you know who she is?“

Wendy breathes in, and out. “Yes,” is all she manages to say, in between long breaths. Her knees give in, body bending forward as she holds onto the nearest surface. _Please, no._

“Miss Son, are you okay?” The secretary holds her wrist as all eyes in room begin turning to them.

Wendy tries her best to keep the tears at bay. Her chest was going up and down with her, because if she doesn’t breathe the world will turn black at its edges. _Not halmeoni, please._

“Seungwan” “Wendy”

Irene and Jennie glance at each other briefly, before the model paces forward and puts her hand on Wendy’s back.

Joohyun begins patting her, soft and slow, and Wendy’s breathing starts to turn even. She couldn’t backtrack or play it off somehow, so it her takes a moment before she faces the model and speaks, “I need to get to the hospital.”

Wendy knew exactly how loss felt like, and she was determined not to let it happen again.

She turns the secretary, “Chaeyoung, can you stay here? I’ll call you.”

As soon as Rosé nods, Wendy kisses Joohyun on the cheek and everyone seemed to be swept away at what had happened in a flash. Most were worried, some still confused, but all couldn’t help but stare with interest as the CEO walks briskly to her audi, its engine revving as she drove herself away.

Joohyun cocks her head forward, and despite the fret and worry she smiles — one that she’s operated on under her whole career. “Everyone, shall we continue the shoot?”

.

Sooyoung enters the private room two hours later, still dressed in her black slim fit top and white mid-thigh skirt. She came as soon as her talk ended.

In slow steps, she clicks on her boots and looks at Halmeoni, how the woman appears even smaller than she does when she’s wrapped in Joy’s figure.

She lays there in a partially reclined bed, her mouth clamped, cheeks hollow, and IV lines snaking out of her arm. A machine next to her was beeping in rhythm to her heart.

“Hi, Sooyoung.” Wendy greets quietly as she sat on the side of the bed, grasping onto halmeoni’s hand. She glances upward, sees Joy pulling a chair away from the wall to slide and sit beside her.

“I heard from the nurse,” Sooyoung starts, looking at her unnie who stares into space without focus, uncomprehending. “We’ll be okay.”

She reaches out and puts her hand above Wendy’s, the both of them gingerly holding the patient’s wrinkled and calloused ones.

Wendy sighs. “We could have lost her, Sooyoung.” She says, tears beginning to form again.

“But we didn’t, unnie.” Joy replies softly, “That has to count for something.”

Joy was right, but Seungwan only inhales weakly, eyes at the sleeping figure in front of her. “Have you talked to Seulgi?”

“Yes, when we ended the call she was boarding the plane back.” Then Joy pulls her arms together, leaning against her chair as she exhales a long breath. “Seulgi-unnie is blaming herself. She said, that day, she saw halmeoni’s hands twitching, and that she noticed her sweat was cold.”

Wendy’s gaze met Sooyoung’s, the younger only continues, “You know how she gets.”

Unlike the two of them, Seulgi wasn't admitted into a good college because she was a child genius or a prodigy. She had no olympaid medals, no international titles — just pure intellect, hard work, and a supportive clan. But if you ask Joy and Wendy who the smartest was among the three of them, they would answer with no hesitation: Kang Seulgi.

And not because she was the oldest (by mere eleven days), but because she seems to know what the right decision is, even if the outcome was still unknown. And it’s not exclusively based on probability and the math (though from an educational standpoint that would have been solely effective), but Seulgi cares about the happiness, too. She’s indescribably good and kind-hearted, yet at the same time she had never let emotions become a danger to her objectivity. She knows the right time, the right words, the right people, and she never lets anything impose as a limitation.

Seulgi had always brought out the most incredible parts in others, and she had the ability to make people work and fight harder than ever before. But when you’re trained to do that for so long, you start doubting yourself in any wake of a mistake or any sign of a misstep. You start to forget that there are unavoidable errors and they’re there to stop you in your tracks and to try to knock you off.

And most of the time, Seulgi forgets the silver lining. She beats herself up for that single thing she neglected or failed to do, against the hundreds of right decisions she had already made.

“I just wish she could see herself the way I see her.” Joy mumbles, swallowing as she feels a tear spilling down her cheek.

Wendy hears it, and she understands what Sooyoung meant.

From the start, Wendy already noticed the two were _different_ than how they are when they’re with her. Joy and Seulgi finished each other’s sentences, and held each other’s hands with care, more than what you could consider as mere friendship. They had gravitated toward the comfort of each other’s company, feeling the radius of sorrow or worry or happiness or spite that only the two of them could decipher. And Wendy’s not a relationship expert, but she’s certain the feelings are mutual.

She wonders why the two smartest people she’s met in her life haven’t quite figured it out yet.

“She does, Sooyoung-ah.” She wipes the tears still leaking onto the valleys of Joy’s face.

The younger girl scoffs, “Stop humoring me, unnie.” Then she stands on her chair to grab a bottle of water, tracing her fingers around a glass as she pours. Wendy notices the trembling hands and the tears still shedding, but she glances back to halmeoni’s frail figure and Joy returns to her side, the two simply sitting together in silence.

Wendy knows no friends or family will come for the elder woman, as the only other person who worked for her in the stall was left to attend to their remaining customers.

And she sighs at the thought, wondering where halmeoni drew strength from all the years she lived alone. And Wendy hopes that as the woman lays there with a peaceful expression, she is dreaming about good things.

.

About another hour passes before Seulgi finally emerged, swinging the door room open frantic with worry.

“The doctor won’t tell me details about her condition because we aren’t legal family, but I know she’s going to be—“

Seulgi stops her sentence to crouch down in front of Joy, “Did you cry?” She asks, the concern in her tone evident.

She moves her hand towards the younger girl’s and instinctively, they clasp it together. “I’m sorry I’m late, Joy-ah.”

Wordlessly, Sooyoung only shook her head. With Seulgi’s free hand, she pulled out another chair and sat in front as she scoots closer to the younger girl, stroking her fingers in soothing silence. She waited for a few seconds, making sure Joy was okay, before she finally turns to Wendy, “What happened?”

The CEO shifts on her feet, “They called me because I was an emergency contact, and you were probably still in the meeting which is why you couldn’t answer.” Seulgi nods and Wendy continues, “I was in a shoot but I called them back when I was driving, and they talked about a surgery, and I just—“ Wendy’s voice began to crack as she went on, “We can’t lose her.. So I told them that no matter what, they need to do the atherectomy if that meant she would be okay.”

Wendy recalls the panic, parking her car haphazardly before she ran to the ER. Then she remembers the fear, barely being able to see through the blur of her tears. And she needed to call Rosé, so with her shaking hands she calls for the secretary, explaining what happened and telling her she’ll personally apologize to the magazine staff and crew.

“I waited for about an hour, then Taeyeon-unnie came out—“

“Taeyeon?” Seulgi asks, “The senior from Harvard?”

Wendy nods.

“Wasn’t she one of your fuck friends?” Joy quipped, and that made the mood in the room grow incredibly lighter.

Trust Sooyoung to do that.

Wendy spouts an eyeroll, “I will hit you if you ever mention that again.”

The two other girls laugh midly, then Wendy continues.

“She’s the head of cardiology and she’s the best in her department—“

Joy interrupts her, “Probably in this whole hospital,“

“And even back in college, too.” Seulgi adds.

“ _Unnie,_ you really should have dated her.”

And Wendy smacks the youngest on the neck, “Shut up.”

The other girls snort as Joy gently massages the injured part, “She said it’s fortunate the ambulance arrived in time and that the surgery went well, now they’ll just have to monitor halmeoni’s vitals.” Wendy stops there.

And in the silence that followed, Seulgi took the moment to study her surroundings. The room was spacious, there was a flat screen TV in front of halmeoni’s bed, so she didn’t have to worry about the elder woman getting bored when she needs to take the days off to rest. On the wooden table near the appliance stood an assortment of drinks, including a bucket of champagne on ice, a platter of sandwiches, and sliced fruits on a crystal dish. Seulgi chuckles at the irony that made it seem like there was something to be celebrated, when in fact all of it remain untouched.

The nagging feeling of guilt at the back of her head is overcome by a realization that her two friends haven’t eaten in hours. She glances over them, then she senses the CEO had something else to say.

Seungwan finally sighed, turning sideways as her arms fold over her chest. “Jennie’s back.”

Joy craned her head to Wendy, mouth open and staring at her in shock. Seulgi, on the other side, just watches her as if she was inspecting the CEO.

A beat passes, then Seulgi speaks. “Why do you sound surprised? She’d come back to Korea sooner or later.”

For a moment, Wendy wasn’t sure what to make of the older girl’s remark. “I guess a warning would have been nice.”

“Why would she tell you that? You’re not together anymore.” Seulgi responds, her voice free of tease. Seungwan still isn’t sure what her friend wants to say.

Wendy shrugs, “She just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Joy chimes in, clearing her throat. “If you two are going to fight like last time,” she looks from one to the other, “Please don’t.”

Seulgi laughs, “We’re not, Sooyoung-ah. We’re too old for that.” Wendy nods in agreement then Seulgi continues, eyes on hers. “And I trust that Seungwan knows what she wants.”

Wendy nods again.

“Do you, unnie?” Joy asks her.

“Of course, Sooyoung-ah.” She places a hand over her chest, “It’s the heart, it never lies.” And just then, her stomach growls. Wendy’s sure she’s not the only one who heard it.

“Yeah, unnie.” Joy sniggers, “The human anatomy is definitely a tell-tale sign.”

Wendy is tempted to smack her again, but she ignores it and calls for delivery instead.

.

The faint sound of the AC whirring surrounded her in a rhythm, but Wendy doesn’t sleep. She holds onto halmeoni’s hand, constantly awaiting any sign of movement. From time to time, she leans her forehead against the mattress, and then she looks up at the corner of the room, sees Seulgi and Joy nestled together in the small couch, their limbs hanging off. The youngest had her arm underneath Seulgi’s head, and the both of them were sleeping soundly.

Below, their matching black boots stood together beside the emptied and thin cardboard boxes from last night. The three went into small conversations, interrupted only when their meals arrived. Then their discussion shifted to halmeoni’s retirement, and they all unanimously guessed that the elder woman would shrink from the proposition, because she had no idea how to relax. She spent all her life preoccupied by work and worry.

And now, as the morning sunlight slants through the window, it reflected on halmeoni’s face, showing the effects of years spent under the heat of the sun. Wendy wonders if the older woman has ever once gone on vacation — maybe the shop has always anchored her in place. Wendy knows they can change it, hopes halmeoni will let her.

She shifted her hands, both of which were clasping the older woman’s, and she starts to lean her forehead on the cushions when she hears a knock on the door.

“Come in.” Wendy says softly, not wanting to stir the other women awake.

A moment later, the door was opened by a brunette, wearing a white shirt tucked in denim jeans, a chained shoulder bag slinging over her.

They stare at each other for a while, before the other woman shuts the door, clearly debating what to do next. Wendy sighs, approaches her reluctantly and takes the fruit basket from her hands.

Jennie’s fingers dither against hers, Wendy pulls away first.

Off to the side, the two women on the couch stretch their hands, and then at the same time, they stopped, muscles tense in mid-air.

Seulgi rose from her seat, bare feet thumping against the floor as she grabs a glass of water and peers over to the singer. She offered a smile, opening her mouth to say something, _anything_ that would dispel the awkwardness but Joy cuts in.

“Get out.”

She says it point-blank, her eyes strained on only one figure. She was about to march right up and tell the other girl right to her face, but Seulgi returned to her side, shaking her head slightly and handing her the water glass.

Wendy swallows the pebble in her throat, “Why are you here?” She asks.

Jennie stood only a few feet away, but Wendy feels as if they’re universes apart. She’s reminded of all the pain, frustration, and heartache that the other girl once caused, and now that she’s in front of her, there was no pandemonium. No chair-throwing anger or explosive shouting, the room just felt uneasy, feathery and thick with baggage. Jennie feels it too.

The singer shifts uncomfortably, saying nothing at first. Then she brought her hands together, “I asked your secretary where you were and—“ she moves forward on her heels, “Can we talk?”

Wendy turns away, places the basket on the countertop and takes the coat from her chair.

From Sooyoung’s position on the couch, the youngest crosses her arms.

“Please tell me you won’t give her this so easily,” She says, not bothering to hide her displeasure, “When all these years she denied it from you.”

Wendy shakes her head and moves closer, “It’s bound to happen, Sooyoung-ah.”

Then Seulgi speaks, “Do you want it to?”

“Yes,” Wendy admits, “I think I deserve this much.”

“Then go, Seungwan.” Seulgi tells her, and despite the youngest being on edge, Joy holds out her hand.

“Just be careful, okay, unnie?” Seungwan smiles, squeezing it briefly then straightening her back.

“Check if anyone follows you around, we only paid one company.” Seungwan nodded, shooting Seulgi a knowing look before the older girl nods back.

Before Joy can ask what the exchange was, the CEO already bounds to the door. Jennie followed suit.

.

Wendy needs to remember how she unexpectedly found so many things that ended up changing her life — how the math seemed to work and how the cards were stacked right before they unfolded the way they did.

“Can you get us a sweet brew and—”

“A—”

“Vanilla latte, right?” Jennie cuts, recognition lacing her every word.

Wendy only nods in response.

“And a vanilla latte, both to go, please.” The singer mouths to the cashier, handing over her black card.

They were in Peek-A-Boo, and Wendy feels a twinge of nostalgia at how everything about the place remained the same — the wooden floors, the scent of coffee, and the stage where Jennie sang to her. Nothing changed, its walls were still bursting with happiness and light, but she doesn’t want to linger for long.

This time, it’s Wendy who walks out the door.

They began strolling away, neither of them talking even when it was all they were here for. It feels strange, back then they never ran out of things to say and their every conversation picked up exactly from where they had left off. Such memories used to replay in Wendy’s head endlessly, but now, as she sips from her coffee, the nerves and knots in her stomach are motionless.

When they stumble upon that familiar bench, Jennie stops. They both become rooted to _their_ spot.

“You remember what we first talked about here?” The singer asks her, head tilting forward but not quite looking at Wendy.

“You won the bid.” Jennie continues, combing her fingers through her hair before she spoke again, “And we barely knew each other but I felt _so proud_ , and at first I didn’t understand why, but our days together made me realize I loved seeing you happy.”

Wendy began to pick at the cup sleeve of her drink, scratching it up and down. Despite the questions in her head, she says nothing, because Jennie was giving her the impression that _she_ wasn’t searching for a response anyway.

The singer lets another minute pass before she speaks again, “I left because I knew how much you loved them, and how much you loved what you were doing.” An exhale escapes her lips, shaky and out of breath, “I listened to you talk about stocks and chemistry and I just knew, Wendy, I knew how much more you could achieve… And look at you now.”

Jennie breaks into a smile, genuine and overjoyed at all of Wendy’s achievements, how she watched the three friends grow to be who they are now, even if that meant _she_ would marked as the antagonist.

Seungwan decides to face her, breathing through the ache in her chest. Their gazes meet and she stares at the pair of dark, hazel eyes she hasn’t seen in so long.

Wendy just wants to understand.

“Was my passion hindering you from yours?”

“No, Seungwan.” The singer shakes her head weakly, guilt laden in her whole being.

“Was I an inconvenience to you?” Wendy asks, and despite herself, there was no hint of accusation in her tone.

“No!” Her voice rang out, then it became filled with despair, “H-how could you think that?”

For the first time, Jennie glimpsed on the flash of anger in Wendy’s expression, _you left me._ But then the CEO turns away, fixing her gaze over to the view in front of them.

Wendy sighs, she just wanted to _understand._ Because as long as she holds on to the anger for the wrongs of the past, she will forever lose the ability to be happy in the future.

“Then why, Jennie?” She finally asks, her knees trembling weak so she sat down on what was once _theirs_. “Why was I not worth a single goodbye?”

She gazes up at the singer, and with the way Wendy is looking at her right now, Jennie feels her throat close up, making it difficult to speak. “That record company,” she begins, and in measured movements she sits beside the CEO. “They signed me, Wendy. And I wanted it _so bad_ , I’ve wanted it all my life. But part of their contract was staying there for a year, and at first I thought about asking you to come with me—”

Wendy cuts in. “I would have agreed.” _And we would have been happy,_ goes unsaid.

She knows the math, she’s a genius. So if you chisel it down to probability, she and Jennie would have already come on top. Because Wendy knows love shouldn’t have to be the biggest compromise of your life, but when she found herself living in a time where she wakes up to a good morning text that makes her everyday terrific, to silences that are enjoyable, to someone who composes melodies and lyrics just for her, then Wendy’s inclined to count such sporadic blessings.

So it’s only fair that she would make it work, but she wonders if she and Jennie were ever on the same page, if they were ever on the same fucking book.

“I know, Seungwan.” Jennie breathes out, painstakingly defeated.

Silence passes, then a tiny broken smile plays on _her_ lips, “We would have lived together, right? You would have easily found a job there because you’re amazing, Wendy... And there was never any second I doubted you. And you’d let me teach you things, you would’ve learned guitar and we would play with Kuma and sing together. We would walk through LA at 4am and we would get lost but we wouldn’t give a damn. Then we would go back home to a swimming pool, palm trees in our living room.”

The emotions wash over them in waves as Wendy balls her hands into fists. Jennie’s words don’t stop, they only unleash memories she had tried too long to bury.

“And we would never have settled down, Seungwan. Because as much we love staying home, every time I strapped on a backpack and boarded a plane, I would want you there with me. And we would take-off to gems and corners of the world and you would _always_ come with, _Seungwan._ ” Jennie's voice cracks, hot tears spilling down her cheeks beyond her control.

Wendy’s knuckles turn white as she listens to the other girl outpouring a future they would have had. And she knows she’s not the only one angry, because Jennie’s voice is bleeding with pain, even when it’s a future _she_ blatantly walked away from.

“You would choose me and we would be living the dream.” Jennie sniffs, Wendy uncurls her fingers. “But I couldn’t live with myself if I was the reason you left the people you loved so much, Joy and Seulgi and the company and all that you had here. So I made a choice and I knew I couldn’t tell you. Because if I saw you, Seungwan..”

Jennie looks up at her and Wendy inches closer, wiping a tear on _her_ cheek before the singer takes a deep, long breath, “If I saw you, I would have stayed.” _And it took all of me not to._

Wendy nods, watching the girl in front of her quietly. She registers this same anguished look on Jennie’s face, she just didn’t see it before. That day in the lab, when the singer saw how much Wendy would try for her.

So _she_ made a choice, and Seungwan didn't have to. Jennie stretched her stay for a few more months before that dreaded day where she finally packed her bags and left.

Wendy feels the storms that rage inside of her gradually subsiding, then she slumps, sinking in bone-deep exhaustion.

Jennie reaches out for her hand, her touch warm. “But I came back Wendy, and I’m asking for forgiveness.” Her lips quiver and her eyes become hopeful, “And I’m also asking for a second chance." She leans in closer. "Because I’ve met all these amazing people, kind, smart and funny and caring.”

“But babe _,_ ” She whispers breathlessly, “none of them was you.”

Wendy feels the wind shift, her throat tightening and a short intake of breath, then she inhales that familiar coconut scent and that hankering feeling of _her_ nimble fingers against her own.

Even in the stretch of Jennie’s absence, Wendy wallows in the fact that some things remain the same.

But she moves away, pressing her back against the seat and her face to the sun, Wendy exhales a heavy breath —

She prefers lavender now.

She clasps their hands tighter, looking into the singer’s eyes. “I need you to know that it’s true, I would have dropped everything and ran away if you asked me to.” Wendy says, as she finally understands and hopes that Jennie will, too. “I loved you more than anything in the world.”

With utter sincerity, Wendy releases it to the universe and lets it all out. The ache in her heart is now gone, and there is more than enough room in it for her to finally love again.

And only a new love can help repair and ebb away the wounds left by an old one. Whether it be the love for yourself, the love from another, or all of the above — only love has that power.

Jennie stares at the same pair of brown, kind eyes she fell in love with, and _she_ knows. “But you don’t anymore.” She mutters, as if telling herself.

Wendy hums, raising her head then smiling as she settles, comfortable against the bench.

When you’re leaving behind a place, or a person, or a period of time when you were happy, you have to take yourself back to the start.

And at the place where everything began, Jennie finally sets her free.

They talk about a forgiveness of the past and an acceptance of a future without the other. And Jennie lets go of the hope that someday, in the fullness of time Wendy will come back to her.

Now, she only yearns and desires that Seungwan finds someone who will be all the things Jennie couldn't.

And in the remaining moments they spent there, Jennie understands, Seungwan already found her.

.

_I’m in love with Joohyun, and I need to tell her now._

The thought came to Wendy with unexpected clarity, even though deep down she’d felt it all along. So she cuts their conversation short, but not before offering Jennie a ride home.

“I’m fine, you go ahead.” The singer says. “I’ll probably walk more, I missed this..”

Wendy sighs. “Are you okay?” She asks her.

Jennie tries to force a reassuring grin, “Yeah.” But Wendy sees the chorus of hurt behind the other girl’s eyes, and Wendy knows it won’t go away prettily, because real pain never does.

She just hopes Jennie finds a reason to carry it forward, and that company arrives along the way.

“Yeah.” Jennie repeats, “I will be.”

Wendy slowly pushes herself up, kissing the singer on the forehead with an expression of resignation, something akin to an apology.

Wendy leaves, and it’s different, she wanted to.

At quarter past nine, the CEO’s car speedily pulled up outside Joohyun’s apartment. As she stands in the elevator watching the numbers go up, she rubs her palms against her pants then taps her hand against her thigh. She had to admit, she was nervous at the prospect of saying it.

And she wonders if there’s a chance they could _really_ work. That despite the clumsy and unpracticed way Wendy gives and accepts love, she wonders if Joohyun would really stay. _Because I’m sure I will,_ she thought to herself.

She enters the key code and the lock beeps, then her glance casts downward at the blue and purple house slippers kept together which meant Joohyun wasn’t home. She slips into her own pair, whipping her phone out in the process. Then Wendy realizes she hasn’t contacted the woman since the shoot yesterday, and she’s reminded of the events that unfolded in the past twenty or so hours.

Her head is spinning and her stomach rumbles.

**_Hey, Hyun. Sorry I’m messaging just now :(  
Call me when you’re free?_ **

Once she’s sure the messages are sent, she’s moves to toss the device away but it begins to ring.

 _“Where are you?”_ Seulgi asks her.

Wendy sighs, satisfied. “Home.”

Seulgi sighs too, a breath of relief. _“Then that means it went well?”_

“Yeah.” Wendy enters the walk-in closet, she decides she’ll take a long-needed bath. “How about you?”

Last night, she decided to finally talk to Seulgi. As soon as their delivery arrived, the trio sat cross-legged on the cold floor of the room, just like they did back in their college dorms.

The flavorful aroma begins filling the air — ramen, sushi, dumplings, and _karage_ — and Wendy feels her mouth water. But as she reaches for that bowl of spicy noodles, Seulgi swats her arm away and Wendy rolls her eyes. _Of fucking course,_ Sooyoung gets to choose first. Seulgi moves their take-out slowly, taking care not to spill anything as the youngest of the three begins chomping on the food offered to her, eyes twinkling in delight. And as Wendy bites on her chicken, she sees that Seulgi’s container had less than half the amount of food the oldest put on Joy’s.

 _Alright,_ Wendy’s had enough.

“Sooyoung,” she calls out, coughing on her food. Joy shifts, giving Wendy a look as if she’s trying hard not to laugh.

“Can you get me a coke from downstairs?” And from the corner of her eye she sees Seulgi raising her brow, “Come on Sooyoung-ah, do it for your _unnie_.”

Wendy pulls out the age card, so Joy has no choice but to relent. She glared over the CEO’s shoulder but she wears her boots anyway and steps out.

“That was Oscar-worthy.” Seulgi remarks, every bit amused.

“I’m a woman of many talents.” She replies. _Is pretend-choking a talent? I don’t think it is._ She shakes the thought away, realizing they don’t have much time.

“You need to tell her, Seul. It’s been going on for _years_.”

The older girl's expression turns into a frown. “It’s not that easy.”

Wendy puts her food down, mulling over the right words. “When have the good things ever been?”

Silence falls over as Seulgi’s stomach feels queasy and unwell, and she hasn’t even said anything because she feels _terrified._ “If it falls apart, Seungwan…" She trails off, "You know what that means for us.”

Wendy swallows. While she wants her friends happy, she knows everything ends eventually. The end is as necessary as much as the beginning is, so what about their friendship? Their business? And Seulgi knows this, too. She finds herself wondering every night whether the start of a relationship with Joy would be a fair trade-off to its eventual conclusion, to the fall-out and tragedy.

“But you have the now, Seul.” Wendy offers, because it’s all she has too. “Think about tomorrow, tomorrow. Then think about the day after that when that day already comes.”

Because while the numbers speak for itself and there’s a 99.99% chance they’ll end badly, the whole point of love is to love what’s in between, and that’s the _now._

“Just.. Take a chance on her. Because I’m sure she wants to take a chance on you too.”

_And it only has to work out once._

The door slides open, Joy bursts in with a can of cherry coke. Wendy looks up at the newcomer and smiles.

“Hey, are you okay?” The younger girl sat down again, beside Seulgi who’s chewing on her bottom lip, absorbing Wendy’s words.

The CEO attempts to distract the youngest, “Give me the coke, Joy!”

“Why are you so demanding?” Joy exasperates as she hands over the soda, then she frowns. “And what did you say to Seulgi-unnie?” She looks over to her, and their hands intuitively found themselves together again.

Wendy shrugs. “I said her _sujebi_ tasted bad.”

Joy lets out a revolted gasp. To be fair, it tasted good enough, but Wendy needed an excuse.

The younger girl turns to Seulgi, “Don’t listen to her, unnie. It was delicious.” Joy says, “Besides, you can’t trust Wendy-unnie’s taste buds, she orders grapefruit tea.”

Wendy gasps too, she feels _offended._

Seulgi starts chuckling, “It’s okay, Joy-ah.” Then she kisses the back of Sooyoung’s hand.

Wendy pulls the tab of her drink, the carbon dioxide hissing out. She sees the blush bloom pink across Joy’s face, Seulgi wearing her signature eye smile, and Wendy sips, indulging in the moment.

_“It went well, too._ ” Wendy’s pulled out from her reverie, the smile on her face widening at her friend’s words.

“What, that’s it?” She shakes her head, laughing, “This isn’t showbiz, Seul.”

_“You say that like you didn’t give me a one-word answer earlier.”_

Wendy rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dumbass.” And she picks up a new towel.

Seulgi laughs, and Wendy looks out for a fresh set of clothes when the older girl speaks again, _“But you’re okay right?”_

Her arms fall to her side, and she thinks. She’s sleep-deprived, hungry, and she feels her head throbbing, but she nods eagerly, even if no one else sees her. “Yes, Seul.”

The call ends there and she strips down, stepping into the shower as the water beats over her head and bathes her skin lightly. She takes her time, the steam filling the room.

Once she comes back out, towel over her body, she sits in front of the mirror and grabs the blow-dryer, its warmth on her hair. And with the few articles of clothing she has in Joohyun’s closet, she decided to change into a simple blue-knit sweater, its front tucked in her denim jeans. Her bangs now fall just above her brows, and the tips of her blonde hair still on her collarbone. She applies a coat of lipstick, and then she grabs her phone.

**_9 missed calls from Park Chaeyoung_ **

Wendy sighs, it’s a few minutes past ten in the morning and yet Joohyun still hasn’t responded, what is —

The device buzzes again, and Wendy accepts.

 _“Miss Son!”_ Rosé says, and Wendy could hear the rush in her voice. _“Please don’t panic.”_

See, more often than not, when people say that, it means you _should_ panic _._ But Wendy pushes down the anxiety on her chest as she waits for the secretary to continue.

 _“Can you please watch the news?_ ” Wendy hums in response, stepping out into the living room.

She searches for the remote control on the model’s sofa, and as she feels it on her palm, she turns on her feet and clicks on the power button, and the TV flashes on.

Wendy’s brows furrow, there was nothing on KBS. Then she flips the channel, _arirang_ showed nothing alarming too, United's stocks were still steadily increasing. And then she presses on the next, and it’s there.

Wendy gawks at the screen blaring in front of her. She cranks up the volume, and she stands, temporarily unmoving. Her hands feel wet and clammy then she realizes her secretary was still on the other line, _“Miss Son?”_

She starts to walk, pacing back and forth before responding, “Thank you for informing me, Chaeyoung-ah.”

Then she disconnects, dashing forward for her keys as she breaks into a flat-out run, autodialing Joohyun’s number but to no avail.

She runs even faster, the panic flooding her system. She holds her breath, zooming off as she switches over to the left lane, stepping hard on the gas pedal even if she’s unsure of where she’s headed.

And Wendy’s heart races, then she sighs, she needs to see Joohyun. Now.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do we need? fluff!
> 
> enjoy <3

An orange is hurled across the room, but Seungwan catches it just in time before it lands right on top of her head.

“Hyun, hear me out!” Wendy shouts as she pulls Yerim in front of her, holding onto the youngest’s shoulders for dear life.

Wendy knew it would come to this, that she was screwed the moment paparazzi caught her kissing Jennie on the forehead.

See, Wendy had no one else to blame but herself. To be fair though, the cameras were at a _very_ faraway distance, which is why the media played it out as a lovey-dovey, tender moment, not seeing Jennie’s tear-stricken face.

Wendy also remembers the events that led to this. The TV reporters narrating: “Breaking news, images show idol singer Jennie Kim and CEO Son walking along Han River after a short visit to SNU Hospital. The pair talked, drank coffee, and parted ways with a sweet kiss! Does this signify a possible romance after Kim Jennie’s long-awaited return? We are currently confirming with their parties, stay tuned for updates.”

And in Wendy’s head, she could hear Joy and Seulgi screaming at her and then it came to a full stop — all she could think of was _Joohyun Joohyun Joohyun._ So she drives to her own apartment, not caring about the traffic and speed limit, but she stumbles on it empty and her calls still unanswered.

Then Wendy tells herself she isn’t all that smart especially since she realizes she never asked for Jihyo’s number, even if they’ve met countless times. She shifts on the gear stick, “Siri, navigate to Magnetic Modelling Agency.” And as the GPS changes its course, she receives a call.

She sighs, knowing there was no point in delaying it, when there wouldn’t be any other outcome but this.

_“YAH!!! SON SEUNGWAN!”_

Seulgi’s anger, resonating within Wendy's convertible.

“I’m sorry Seul,” she answers defeatedly, “But I really need to find Joohyun.” She steps harder on the gas when the traffic light flickers yellow.

 _“I told you to be careful! HQ is flooded with calls!”_ Her best friend, as per usual, is unwavering.

“Seulgi, I swear I’ll make it up to you.” Wendy turns right, “But I really need to talk to Joohyun first.”

 _“Why don’t_ _—”_ Wendy hears muffled noises on the other line, then Seulgi whispers quickly, “ _Get your ass back here now.”_

The call ends, and for reasons unknown to Wendy, a cold shiver sends down through her spine spreading to every part of her body. She takes the next u-turn, launching on full speed and hoping for a miracle.

When she shuts the ignition and pulls over outside the hospital, its high glass windows show a wave of reporters gathered in the middle of the lobby, cameras and microphones in hand as they patiently wait. Wendy begins drumming her fingers against the wheel, _taptaptap._

_What if I climbed through the windows?_

_No, that’s dumb._ Wendy forces a shake of her head _. Taptaptap._

_Aha! I need a distraction, what’s a good distraction?_

She shuts her eyes, _taptaptap,_ but its louder and it’s coming from her car window. She cocks her head fast, the thought of being caught petrifying her, but then she sees a familiar face.

“Taeyeon-unnie.” Wendy rolls her windows down,

The doctor leans, elbows dropping on the car door, “You’ve made quite a mess there.” She chuckles, and Wendy looks down in apology.

“I’m really sorry unnie, it wasn’t my intention.” She replies quietly.

Taeyeon shrugs, “It's not a big deal, Wendy-ah.” She says softly, and the CEO is thankful for the reassurance. “I’m figuring you need help, because you will never be able to pass through all of that.” Taeyeon chuckles again.

Wendy lifts her head, hands now held up and brushing over each other in a silent plea. The doctor laughs like an _ahjumma_ , then Wendy drives to the back of the hospital, running through a flight of stairs at the fire exit until she reaches the second floor, then continuing into the elevators.

With all the courage she has left, she opens the door to the hospital room, and she searches for that pair of eyes at the far corner, standing beside her friend. Now, Wendy understands where the shiver came from, because a chilling, icy glare is thrown at her along with a heavy orange fruit.

“Hyun, it’s not what it looks like!” Wendy attempts at an explanation, peeking out from behind Yerim’s shoulder then hiding her head back down.

“Unnie, when someone says that, it’s _exactly_ what it looks like!” Yerim whispers in warning, and Wendy mentally curses herself for the mistake.

“KIM YERIM!” Joohyun shouts, arms now folding across her chest since Joy put all tangible objects away from the model. From the other side, Yerim winces, “Don’t think I didn’t see _her_ albums on your shelf. You’re a traitor!”

“Unnie.. Kim Jennie's songs are god-tier!” Yerim protests and Wendy shakes her head _this is death, we are going to die._

“They’re actually all about Wendy-unnie.” Wendy’s jaw hangs open and she feels Joohyun’s eyes burning with wrath.

“Park Sooyoung, you are not helping.” Wendy mutters then Yerim continues for her, “Not helping at all.”

Joy only rolls her eyes, a smug smile on her lips. Wendy thinks she’ll definitely kill the girl later, but she needs to come out of this alive first.

She lets go of Yerim’s shoulders, and she takes a step forward with her hands up in surrender, “Hyun..”

“Don’t you dare come closer.”

Wendy’s not surprised at the anger in the model’s voice, but she still ascends into small steps.

“Let her, unnie, so you can hit her properly.”

Wendy’s starting to second-guess their friendship, “Again, Sooyoung.” She narrows her eyes at the friend, “Not. Helping.”

Joy only takes a seat, a teasing smile on her face.

“Hyun, we just talked.” Seungwan says calmly, stopping at a few feet away from the other woman when she’s sure they come eye to eye.

“You kissed her.” Joohyun wrinkles her nose, sees a pout forming at the other woman's lips. And everything turns at 180, Wendy has to bite the insides of her cheek to stop the smile from erupting.

She now understands why Joy was taking it so lightly, Joohyun was _jealous._

“It was on the forehead, Hyun.” Wendy says, taking a step closer. “A friend kiss, you know.”

Wendy reaches out for the girl’s shoulder but Joohyun’s voice suddenly sharpens, “You still kissed her!” The CEO flinches and brings her arm back, “And there’s no such thing as a _friend kiss,_ Seungwan! What if I kissed my model _friends_?”

Joohyun rolls her eyes and Wendy’s brows furrow, “That’s different, Hyun. They have feelings for you.”

“Jennie has feelings for you too!”

“What?” Joy cuts in, the smirk on her face when she watches the exchange immediately disappeared at the model’s words.

“How’d you know that?” Wendy asks, but both Sooyoung and Joohyun only look at her pointedly. She runs a palm over her jaw, moving it back and forth like she’s attempting to squeeze out the tension. “She said she still does, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter?” Joohyun retorts sarcastically, “I was scared, Seungwan.”

 _I didn’t know if you were ever coming back to me,_ goes unsaid.

But Wendy hears it, loud and clear. The model's anger was a defense mechanism, an attempt to hide the insecurities and doubts and every possible flaw Joohyun could rip out of herself. And after that short interaction and magazine interview, Joohyun saw first-hand how kind and pretty and talented Jennie truly was, and it didn’t take long for the crippling fear of getting replaced to sink in.

So she stays over at her mother’s house, sleeping beside Yerim in hopes that the younger sister’s stories keep going and going, making Joohyun forget her subconscious panicking at the thought of Wendy ever hurting her. So she turns her phone off, and Yerim tells her about the thesis, they binge-watch comedies, and for a while, it works.

But after her morning shower, Joohyun detects that fear again, magnifying under her skin as she watches the television in front of her. Wendy has told her this before, that the chemicals in the human brain are wired to affirm itself; that we are programmed to find evidence that supports what we most want to believe.

So, Joohyun compels herself to think that it isn’t true, that Wendy wouldn't do this to her. Yerim tells her there was only one way to find out. They arrive at SNUH together, and Joohyun swallows the bile in her throat at the sight of the handful of reporters. Yerim leads them to a different entrance, through a 3D printing laboratory the college student frequents at, and Joy texts the younger girl their room number.

As soon as they enter, Sooyoung explains the context while Seulgi steps out of the room to answer a heated amount of calls. Joohyun doesn’t consider herself a pessimist, but as the seconds pass by she begins to assume that the absolute worst will happen, and that means Wendy chooses a world without her.

Joy attempts at consolation, recalling the CEO’s exact words _it’s the heart, it never lies_ and Joohyun only regards the younger one silently, pressing her lips together as she seethes. How could Wendy easily say that to someone else, and yet Joohyun was left with no assurance, left to believe in a disastrous outcome.

Wendy’s eyes soften, stepping forward until she slides her arms gently around the model’s waist, “I missed you.”

Joohyun’s arms fall to the side, “Y-yah, go away.” She tears her eyes away from the CEO, and she briefly catches Joy and Yerim stepping out of the room.

Wendy leans in even closer, “I love you.” She says tenderly.

Joohyun’s eyes grow wide as she slowly looks back at Seungwan.

“Hyun,” her lips now whispering against Joohyun’s, “I love you.”

Joohyun feels warmth creeping its way up to her chest, that same _Seungwan effect_ , but it’s an insurmountable emotion of happiness and delight and Irene hides back the smile she doesn’t want Wendy to see. She wants to hear those three words again and again and again.

So she doesn’t respond, and Wendy pulls away slightly, right hand now tracing down Joohyun’s arm until it reaches her fingers, sliding hers over Joohyun’s. Her left thumb starts delicately moving against the model’s waist, in slow and soft circles.

Wendy kisses the back of Joohyun’s hand, “I’ve known it for a while now, because everything with you feels like a choice.”

Then she smiles, bringing a hand up to the model’s face, her thumb brushing Joohyun’s lips before she presses a kiss on her hair and pulls back, staring into the brightest brown orbs. “But I’m not falling in love with you, Hyun. This, right here, is walking into love, surely and deliberately without looking backwards.”

Loving Joohyun was a waking, conscious choice and Wendy believes in the immense power of all of it — in the calming way Joohyun holds her hand, in the melted hues of the sunrise when they wake up next to each other, in hearing Joohyun’s voice on the other end of the phone call after a long day and they’re miles away from each other.

Wendy’s inclined to believe that all of it is a product of their choices, and that through every argument or temptation or media ploy or every twist and bump in the road that threatens to tear them apart, Wendy will always choose Joohyun. And she doesn’t have to worry about falling out of love, because she never fell in.

Loving Joohyun was a waking, conscious choice and it’s one that Wendy’s going to keep making because she knows, with ferocious certainty, that Joohyun is all the chances she’s willing to take.

And Joohyun still doesn’t respond. She doesn’t have to. They’re staring at each other and Wendy knows her own thoughts are mirrored in the other woman’s eyes, and they lean in for a quick kiss, pulling away only as their foreheads rest against each other.

Wendy thinks they deserve this, moments of pure and intense happiness, the kind that makes you feel your heart beating against your chest, the kind that dizzies you and makes you realize everything will be okay. Because it will be. _It will be._

She chuckles and Joohyun does too, then they’re both laughing out of pure bliss before they hear soft whimpers from the bed. Wendy walks forward, Joohyun in tow, then she sees halmeoni’s eyes slowly fluttering open, “Hyun! She’s awake!”

The model wriggles her fingers away, “I’ll go call the others.” Wendy shoots her an appreciative smile.

As the door shuts, Seungwan presses on the red button and reclines halmeoni’s bed upward. She starts moving to the countertop to grab a glass of water, but the elder woman tugs on Wendy’s hand.

Her eyes drop to the age-spotted fingers, patchy skin and bony knuckles and Wendy tries to ignore it but it’s hard. She squeezes tight, her breaths shaky as she tries to forestall the tears.

“Did I worry you, Seungwan-ah?” Halmeoni asks, her words are so out of line with their usual laughter-filled conversations. Wendy nods her head up and down, her two hands now over the older woman’s.

“HALMEONIIII,” Joy comes rushing in, her hands yanking Seungwan easily to the side as her gigantic frame engulfs the elder woman in a hug, “Don’t ever do that to us again. We were so sad.”

Halmeoni chuckles at Sooyoung’s pout, the youngest taking a step back to fully make her emotions visible. “Alright, Sooyoung-ah.” She replies softly, then her gaze shifts to the older girl behind.

“Seulgi, I can see you crying over there.” The elder woman teases. Seulgi brings her hands up to her face, attempting to cover her tears, or her embarrassment, or both.

Joy leans forward, pulling Seulgi’s hands away. “Unnie..” She calls softly, her hands now wiping the remaining tears on the older woman’s face, and she can’t help but be mesmerized at how Seulgi’s cheeks feel so soft, like a combination of silk and satin that’s pressing against her palms.

Halmeoni chuckles, “Have you two finally gotten together?”

Seulgi’s mouth is agape, “H-how did you..” Her voice trails off, because she realizes the elder woman knew, in a matter of seconds, that something between her and Joy had shifted simply because she was halmeoni. They’re a family, and the trio meant so much to her, as much halmeoni meant so much for them.

She shakes her head, walking over to hug the frail figure. Seulgi feels her tears falling against halmeoni’s neck, but the elder woman doesn’t do anything to stop them. Instead, she presses her cheek against the top of Seulgi’s head, hand softly patting her hair.

“It’s okay, dear,” she says, “I’m okay now.”

They stay like that for a few seconds, before Joy and Wendy join in the hug as they try to make up for lost time. A nurse enters their room and sets down a clipboard, and the trio move away from the bed to join the pair of siblings sitting on the corner couch, as halmeoni’s vitals are checked and her blood sample is taken.

The nurse turns to the five of them then she addresses Wendy, “Miss Son, Dr. Kim will update you directly once the results are out. In the meantime, please make sure the patient gets sufficient amount of rest.” She smiles, picks up her remaining supplies and walks toward the door, the group sending her a warm “thank you”.

Halmeoni took in her surroundings, and she sees the fresh arrangement of flowers by the windowsill. “Those are gorgeous,” she motions for the bouquet, “Thank you, sweetie. You have good taste.” She says as she takes the bundle of roses from Yerim.

Joy’s arm goes around the youngest’s shoulder, “She sure does, she's friends with me!”

Yerim nudges her on the stomach, and Joy flinches dramatically before she comes whining to Seulgi. Yerim only rolls her eyes before she bows to the elder woman, “I’m Kim Yerim, it’s nice to meet you.”

Halmeoni smiles, leaning forward to grab her hand and shaking it. Yerim laughs, then halmeoni’s gaze turns to the figure beside Seungwan, she cocks a curious eyebrow at their hands threaded together.

Then, it’s as if a lightbulb goes off in her head at that very second, because the confusion on her face turns into delight. “You finally dated the model, Seungwan!”

Wendy laughs, “Are you proud of me?” And she leads Joohyun in front of the bed.

“Hyun, meet halmeoni.” She gestures to the elder woman, “Halmeoni, meet Bae Joohyun.”

Joohyun reaches for her hand, but her head is tucked low to hide the blush marring her cheeks. Meeting new people was an easy task, especially when it’s frequent and mandatory, it becomes instinctual. But when she sat down by the end of the room, watching everything unfold before her, her knee bounced up and down in nervousness. And even right now, her lack of confidence speaks volumes. Halmeoni was practically Seungwan’s parent, and frankly, Joohyun feels like a highschooler meeting her girlfriend’s family. _Heh, girlfriend._

The red that rims her cheeks deepen, then a flash of recognition registers in halmeoni’s face, “I see you every day! You’re on the soju bottles!”

Joohyun looks up, the comment making her eyes twinkle in mirth, and halmeoni smiles back affectionately, “You’re a lot prettier in person, dear. How did you end up with Seungwan?” She asks sarcastically, even pointing at the CEO beside her.

“Halmeoni!” Wendy whines, lips dropping into a pout.

All other women laugh, and soon enough the room is filled with conversation. They pull the couch closer to the bed, and Wendy sits on a separate chair just beside Joohyun on the sofa's edge, as she starts peeling fruits for the elder woman.

She picks up the orange, lying limp by the corner near the door, and she releases a sigh of relief at the turn of events. Right now, Joy exaggeratedly talks about the return of “The Ex”, with graphic descriptions as if Wendy’s life were composed of scenes from a cheap comedy movie.

Wendy rolls her eyes with an ill-hidden smile because it doesn’t matter anymore, whatever happened in the past. Because right here and right now — as halmeoni offers sliced pieces of bananas to Joohyun when she learns it’s the model’s favorite, and they all listen intently to Yerim’s endless stories about college and medicine and modern fashion, and Seulgi and Joy rescind in each other, in that comfortable way that soulmates do — this is all Wendy has. Her fingers interlaced with Joohyun’s as she breathes easy, because there’s a deep compelling feeling within her that knows this will be enough.

“Hey, I did a thing about the Jennie situation.” Seulgi says to her, and Wendy would have looked apologetic if not for the suspicious glances Yerim and Joy are throwing at her.

She’s not the only one who sees, “Why do I feel like we should be afraid?” Joohyun asks, voice laced with skepticism as the maknae-line begins sniggering.

“Unnie, don’t you trust us?” Joy asks, and Joohyun’s stuck between an eyeroll and listing out all the times the two young girls have proven they are _not_ to be trusted (starting with Yerim’s pranks in high school), but Joohyun forces a mocking smile then proceeds to shake her head.

Wendy laughs, “I trust Seulgi, though.” She turns to her, “So what’s the plan?”

And Seulgi explains, in the most detailed way possible, and Joohyun has her jaw slacking open before she catches herself soon smiling, meanwhile Wendy automatically reaches out to the older girl for a high five, “This is why you’re my best friend!” Their hands slap against each other making a satisfying smack.

“Yah, Wendy-unnie!” Yerim protests, “I was the one who said ‘There’s always a bigger scandal!’”

Joy cuts in laughing, “But then you suggested a sex tape—”

Yerim traps her in a headlock as her hand covers Sooyoung’s mouth, “She’s lying. All she does is lie.”

Wendy only chuckles while Joohyun pulls back from the side embrace she engulfed Seungwan in, because she feels the CEO’s tired aura, notices the bags under her eyes and Joohyun immediately knows Wendy was once again functioning on little-to-no sleep.

“Do you want to rest first?” She whispers.

Wendy shakes her head, “Being here with you is good enough for me.”

Joohyun would have cooed but Wendy yawns, and the model can’t help but nag, “Seungwan, I’ll stay behind. Just call a driver to bring you home and get some sleep, please.”

Wendy shakes her head again, dropping a kiss on Joohyun’s temple, “All I’ll do back at home is think about you, and how I was way happier that you were with me.”

Joohyun has never swallowed butterflies before, but she feels the fluttering of wings right at her insides. _The Seungwan effect._

“YAH!” Yerim intercepts, “We can hear you!”

Joy clicks her tongue, and as her gaze follows Seulgi’s and they silently promise to _never_ be as cheesy and corny like that (around other people). They nod their head in unison, then Sooyoung turns to the pair, “The both of you can leave, honestly.”

She gestures to the figure falling into a slumber as Seulgi fully reclines the hospital bed. “We’ll just wait for Taeyeon-unnie, Wan-ah. And I’ll call you once halmeoni can get discharged.”

Wendy yawns again, unable to resist it. “Is that really okay?” She asks.

“ _Yes_ , unnie.” Joy responds exasperatedly, standing up from her seat to pull the two older girls up. She pushes them slightly by the shoulder, “Now go away and make babies.”

Joohyun’s eyes widen and Wendy lets out a laugh, “Park Sooyoung, you’re the best.” She hugs the younger girl, then sends a wave to the other two women on the couch.

“Yerim, don’t forget to tell omma if you’ll be staying the night.” Joohyun reminds her sister.

“Unnie, you don’t have to worry about me.” She flickers her hand dismissively.

Joohyun walks to her, planting a kiss on the top of her younger sister’s head, “I always worry about you, Yerim-ah.”

“Stooop,” Yerim retorts weakly, warmth creeping over her.

The couple finally shuts the door behind them, and Wendy doesn’t forget to take the fire exit just in case reporters were still there. She checks at her watch, _4:03pm._ Wendy realizes just how true it was that you lose all sense of time when you’re enjoying every second of it.

“Are you sure you can drive?” Joohyun asks her as Wendy opens the passenger seat for the model.

One of her shoulders rises with a little half-shrug. “Of course, Hyun.” She replies with a smile.

The ride home was short, but Seungwan makes sure to drive moderately as she glances on Joohyun’s peaceful face, the model humming along to the faint music of the radio. Wendy clutches a hand to her heart, no matter how many times she’s looked at Joohyun, she still hasn’t grown used to what she sees, that anyone could look as ethereal in a blue button-down.

As soon as the lock to Joohyun's apartment clicks, Wendy strips off her pants lazily and grabs a clean sweater. The sleepy fog clings to her mind, so she yanks Joohyun on the bed with her, hearing a surprised _umph_ before the model realizes Wendy is spooning her against her body.

“Good night, Seungwan.” She says softly, before she turns around to smooth down the messy hair on Wendy’s face.

“I love you.” Wendy whispers into her ear, and Joohyun feels her heart jumping rapidly against her ribcage.

“How much?” She giggles, snuggling closer to the CEO as her body curves to fit perfectly in Wendy’s.

Wendy hums, “A lot more than the number of quarks in the universe.” She responds groggily, the sleep invading her senses.

“I can’t believe you’re half-asleep and that’s still where your mind goes.” Irene chuckles to herself, as she quietly watches Wendy fall into slumber; like a cherub baby angel, where each moment they spent together feels golden, floating above clouds with echoes of a lifetime.

.

The digital clock on her nightstand tells her it’s exactly 8:00pm. Before she reads it, Joohyun straightens up and stretches her back, and then inhales a deep breath.

***

**United CEO Son and Supermodel Bae Irene Announce They are Dating**

Following their collaboration’s massive success, CEO Son Wendy and their supermodel and brand ambassador Bae Irene officially announce they are dating.

United’s camp revealed to us, with confirmation from MMA, “The two know each other way back. All the times they have previously met, they have already been seeing each other romantically.”

Furthermore, earlier reports that linked the CEO to Jennie Kim were denied by both parties. “They are simply two friends outside of the show business, who talked after not seeing each other for a long time,” BP Entertainment said in a statement to _The Seoul Story._

Son and Bae’s respective agencies request that their privacy be respected.

Check out the new power couple in never before seen images of their date in Switzerland, where they spent their time in a private villa rumored to cost $12,000 per night.

For more updates, click subscribe.

***

She shakes her head slightly, heart reactions now flooding the article. Before she can read the comments, she hears soft mumbling.

“Go back to sleep.” Wendy murmurs, eyes still closed.

Joohyun shuts her phone and shifts her position, so that she now faces the sleeping CEO. She throws an arm around her, and presses a feathery kiss on Wendy’s jaw.

“Did I wake you?”

Wendy hums in response, “But it’s not your fault.” She says, voice heavy with sleep.

Joohyun chuckles softly, still very much attuned to the CEO’s sleeping habits.

“Our article’s out.” She says as she shifts closer to Wendy, burying her neck on the latter’s shoulder.

The silence that follow makes Joohyun assume she had fallen asleep again, so she closes her eyes when Seungwan suddenly speaks.

“Move in with me.” The CEO demands, “I’ll buy us a house.” She says, kissing the crown of Joohyun’s head.

“What if I don’t want to?” Joohyun retorts.

Wendy laughs, finally opening her eyes to see Joohyun with a teasing smile, the model's lids still shut. Wendy thinks she will never get used to this, that she could wade through limitless eras and time zones and alternate realities but her heart will always pound at the sight of _this_ Joohyun.

“Please, baby?” She asks teasingly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the model’s ear.

Joohyun’s eyes flutter open, “I don’t like it.” She pouts, “You can call me Hyun, and I’ll still call you Seungwan or Wan,” Then her eyebrows shoot up, “Or Wannie!”

Wendy chuckles before replying, “Okay, Hyun.” Irene morphs into an expression of satisfaction, “But what about the house? Gangnam? UN Village?”

“You decide, Wannie.” Joohyun giggles.

“Okay,” Wendy moves to turn around and stand, but Joohyun holds onto her, “I need to go browse for properties.”

Joohyun shakes her head while pouting, “Cuddle first please.” And Wendy feels her insides grow all warm and fuzzy. _Fuck, she’s adorable._

So of course, Wendy relents. She’s doing herself a favor, and she presses a kiss on the model’s lips. Her arm traveling back to Joohyun’s waist as the older woman’s rhythmic breathing was against her neck.

Wendy shuts her eyes and feels herself slowly falling back to sleep, then a quiet sigh leaves her mouth when she realizes that this time, "I love you" also means "I'll stay." And that she will choose Joohyun again and again, until her heart stops beating.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: this has smut,, if you are uncomf pls look away thank u

Wendy blows out a heavy breath, dropping another packaged box on the trunk of Seulgi’s range rover.

“Remind me again why we didn’t just,” she pauses, out of breath, “hire people to do this?” Wendy turns to the older friend, her cheeks now flush against the heat.

Seulgi shifts the boxes, making sure they won’t jiggle and fall over. “Because halmeoni doesn’t want us to spend, Wan-ah.”

“Then what else is money for?” Wendy retorts huffing, hands over her waist before she rearranges two smaller ones off the top. She glances over to Seulgi who, despite the beads of sweat lining her forehead, seems amused, “Are there more inside?”

Seulgi nods, “I’ll go grab the last one.”

Then the older girl walks back to halmeoni’s apartment, a small, rented house with floorboards thin and veined. Wendy felt as if its walls have been frozen by a hundred winters and baked by a hundred summers, but maybe that’s just her convincing herself this was the best decision. That even if this was a situation halmeoni’s never been in before, where she’ll have to leave behind the only home and job and life she’s known — Wendy hopes the elder woman will let the change overtake her forward, in an unbearably light direction where they’re together.

Halmeoni holds the front door open, as Seulgi comes out quickly, lifting yet another carboard box in her arms. Wendy motions to get it from her in assistance, but Seulgi only shakes her head.

“Chop chop, kiddos! We don’t have all day.” Halmeoni remarks playfully, the bottom of her cane tapping against the pavement.

Wendy laughs, that small show of excitement reassuring her that this path is the right one to go down with.

Halmeoni halts her steps, eye growing wide before she turns her back again to enter her old living space, probably for the last time.

“Do you need any help?” Wendy calls as she peeks upward, and but the elder woman waves her hand dismissively.

The hospital discharged her earlier today, saying she no longer needs to receive inpatient treatment. Seulgi makes sure to understand the level of medical attention needed, the medicine, the rest, and the overall care they’ll need to give her. As soon as the records and bills were settled, she had called Wendy to come fetch them as Sooyoung brought Yerim home.

Joohyun, on the other hand _(the disappointment still mingling in Wendy’s mind)_ was in a versace fashion show in London.

_(Wendy whines groggily, “Hyun, don’t go yet.” She looks at the clock on the nightstand, shaking her head at the middle-of-the-night disturbance._

_“I have to.” The mattress dips as Joohyun sits back on the bed, dressed in jeans and a gray sweater, ready to leave. Wendy frowns as the older girl continues, “I’m going to be late.” Her thumb grazes the CEO’s lips curving downward, then Joohyun chuckles._

_She grabs the pillow once tucked underneath her head, then places it in between Wendy’s arms, “There, a proxy while I’m away.”_

_“Hyuuun,” Wendy whines again, but Joohyun shakes her head firmly._

_“I’ll miss you too but it’s just a week, Seungwan.” She gently palms the sleepy woman’s cheeks, “Facetime when you’re free, sounds good?”_

_The CEO pouts, rubbing her eyes adorably and Joohyun really wants to curl up and stay. But her phone rings and that’s her cue, she stands up and grabs her coat. On the other end of the line, Jihyo says they’re waiting downstairs. Joohyun hangs up, kisses Seungwan goodbye before she makes her way to the door._

_Wendy doesn’t fall asleep again, inhaling a deep breath as it takes all of her power not to follow the model out. She walks to the bathroom and sighs, knowing her week will be longer and lonelier.)_

Seulgi shoves her shoulder teasingly, “You’re such a big baby.”

“And you’re such a _bottom_ , Kang.” Wendy shoves her back but Seulgi only grins, making no effort to deny.

She looks down at the boxes again, Seulgi beginning to count them before Wendy interrupts, “Are you sure halmeoni agreed to all our plans?”

“For the _hundredth_ time, yes Seungwan.”

“To closing the shop, working at United, and the new apartment?” She asks again, disbelievingly.

Seulgi only rolls her eyes, motioning at the pile occupying her SUV’s trunk as solid affirmation.

“But how?” 

Seulgi chuckles, “Kim Yerim is a different breed.”

“Yerim?” Wendy asks, now she's just puzzled.

The other girl nods, “I bought dinner at Mr. E, then when I came back, Sooyoung showed me a thumbs up.”

The first night the trio spent in the hospital, they talked and considered many possible plans and outcomes. The goal is, halmeoni works at United instead, the head chef will be mentoring her directly as she adjusts to the new environment. They convince her to move out, buying her an apartment closer to the office and much safer, where cameras and security can immediately detect if anything goes wrong or falls out of place. Then the shop in Gwangjang would have a new caretaker, the sole employee halmeoni’s currently paying.

If all their propositions would be adamantly rejected, they prepared an alternative for each one, Sooyoung even tearing out a piece of paper to write it all down. Yet luckily, the math seems to work in their favor and the expected return value is achieved.

Thanks to a blonde, eager college kid.

“That’s amazing.” Wendy chuckles, taking a mental note to treat the younger girl out.

“If she wasn’t so inlove with the lab I would have recruited her for marketing.” Seulgi clicks her tongue and Wendy chuckles again.

“Everything’s settled,” halmeoni comes out the front door again carrying a bundle of fabric under her arm. She opens the backseat, “Come on then,” and gestures for the two to follow. Wendy helps her inside, buckling the seat belt before she closes the door and hops onto the car passenger.

Seulgi reaches for the ignition, “Ready to go?” From her shoulder, she looks at the elder woman.

Halmeoni nods, and the sound of the engine begins to hum and they're drive past the long alleyways, houses and trees with narrow spaces between the lots.

The whizzing sound of a train breaks through, the stop a few meters away from the railroad.

“Halmeoni,” Wendy calls out, “We’re partners with the land developer there, so if the pipes leak or if the neighbors are noisy or if the elevator’s broken—”

The elder woman cuts her rambling, “Seungwan.”

“—Just,” she pauses, “Please call us if there’s anything wrong.”

Halmeoni’s face softens, more grateful than she could ever pronounce. “I’ll call you even if there’s nothing wrong, Seungwan-ah.”

Wendy smiles, exhaling a sigh of relief. She doesn’t want to admit, but a part of her understands that this, somewhat, is her second chance; where she finally makes the right decisions, a redemption from the trauma she never thought she’d heal from. Wendy learns that you have to live your life fearlessly, that you need to pursue and do all that you seek without anything from the past holding you back.

But it's inevitable that danger pops out against the stuff you care about and cherish deeply. These things that make us lose our footing and before you know it, the fear settles back in; and with Wendy, it’s in the form of so closely losing a person she values. So she tries her best, to plough through and run against the risks so that the next time she looks back, she doesn’t wish she were someone else.

The car drives again forward, we have to keep moving.

“Will I start work on Monday?” Halmeoni asks.

Seulgi nods, “Yes, but please get some rest first while Sooyoung updates the company database.”

The elder woman hums, “Is that why she’s not here?”

Wendy nods, turning to her. “We’re expanding to New York, halmeoni.”

The CEO fights the smile etching her features as she watches the elder woman swing her head to her direction with eyes wide, “Congratulations!” Wendy’s lips turn up and halmeoni continues, “Ah, this is the perfect time then.”

She places the dark blue fabric on her lap, untying the ribbon that kept it intact. Wendy only watches as two hand-knitted scarves are revealed, made from some fluffy wool where its two ends were sewn together so that it formed a wide circle.

“This orange one is for you, Seulgi-yah,” she lifts it, still neatly folded, “And then this red one is for Sooyoungie.” She points to the other, more elongated scarf.

Seulgi glances from the rearview mirror, “Halmeoni.. You didn’t have to—"

“Shhh.” She brings a finger up to her mouth, “At least let me give you these, Seulgi-ah.”

She nods appreciatively, feels quick tears prickling her eyes knowing that from now on, nothing will ever beat the warmth that item of clothing will provide; because it’s a type of auburn that churns from her insides.

Wendy chuckles at her friend being such a _softie._ She shifts again as she asks the elder woman, “Where’s mine?”, sounding excited even if she doesn’t really wear scarves.

Halmeoni grabs another piece of fabric, but this one is a rectangle of red in thin yarn. The knit was too perfect to be hand-made, “I used a machine for this, and I had it blessed by a shaman.”

Wendy’s eyes bulge as her voice rises in pitch, “Why?”

Halmeoni grins at the expression of shock and curiosity at the CEO’s face. She holds onto her secret for a few seconds before she replies, “If you place this under your pillow as you do your _activities_ ,” her eyebrows wriggle, “You will have endless energy.”

Seulgi bursts out in laughter and halmeoni watches Wendy fold her arms, “Well, you’re a busy person, Seungwan. You’ll need extra energy to make sure the sex is good.”

Seulgi laughs even harder and Wendy can’t stop herself, “Halmeoni, the sex is _always_ good. It’s great!”

“YAH!” Seulgi’s right hand smacks her on the thigh, “Keep your bedroom activities to yourself.”

Wendy rolls her eyes, “I don’t care.”

Seulgi’s features turn into a grimace, “Son Seungwan, I’m still older than you.”

“ _Again,_ I don’t care Kang Se—”

Halmeoni interrupts their bickering as she shoves the cloth in the CEO’s hands, “Just use it, Seungwan.” She commands firmly.

Wendy releases a quick sigh and just as fast, Seulgi’s smiling again.

She brushes a hand through her hair, “Yes, halmeoni,” she responds in defeat.

.

They walk to United after dropping the elder woman off to her new home, just a couple of minutes away from their office. They leave Seulgi’s car in the basement parking, halmeoni had finally let them ask a few personnel to lift the boxes up. After giving the two women tight hugs, halmeoni tells them to go back to work and that Yerim will be coming over.

Wendy slumps on her couch, back against her office cushions as Seulgi heads straight to wrap an arm around Joy.

“Hi, Unnie.” She rests her head against Seulgi’s shoulder, as the older woman’s hands soothes her hair, pressing her lips against it.

“Hi, Joy-ah.” She says quietly.

“You guys know I am very, _very_ happy for the both of you,” Wendy looks at them, “But please get out because you’re convincing me to go fly across the globe and see Joohyun.”

Joy snorts, “Stop being clingy.” And Wendy narrows her eyes at the couple’s intertwined hands.

“Yeah, sure.” Wendy replies sarcastically before she transfers to her office chair, being a busybody workaholic would be the perfect distraction.

Her desktop unlocks at face recognition, and Wendy remembers the tabs she left open.

“I think Hannam-dong is the best option.” Joy tells her and the CEO’s head cocks to the side as a smug smile takes over Sooyoung’s expression.

“How—” Wendy’s eyes narrow at her again, “Did you snoop on my computer?”

“I have access to all of United’s computers, unnie.” Sooyoung shrugs.

Wendy rolls her eyes.

“But yes, you left it open and I was going to ask what the problem with your apartment was, but I saw you were looking at houses.” Joy tells her, eyes meeting hers’.

“You’re moving out?” Seulgi asks, a twitch of smile playing at the corner of her lips, “With Irene-unnie?”

Wendy hums, “We’ve been taking turns sleeping at each other’s place and I thought it’s better that we just—” she clicks on her heels to stand, “have our own home, you know?”

She walks back to sit in front of the couple, facing them with a bit of hesitance. Every piece of advice, every adage and honest opinion her two friends have holds power in Wendy’s choices. She listens to them in high regard, because she knows that if there’s anyone in the world who wishes her nothing less than pure joy, it’s her two friends.

And so, they never mince their words or tailor their thoughts into one that’s “inoffensive”, because the trio's relationship has always been founded on truth. That’s what happens when you care about someone else’s happiness and wellbeing as much as you do your own.

“I think it’s a good decision, Wan-ah.” Seulgi tells her then Sooyoung continues, “And I’m recommending the one in UN village ‘cause their security is tight.”

Wendy rubs her palm against her thighs, this was her main concern too. The general public took their dating news well, reputable newspapers and media outlets had been calling both agencies for interviews and front-page features,

Wendy was impressed and satisfied that so far, everything went down nicely. But she knows the lines become blurred and the beauty of privacy becomes disrespected. There are some things unfit for public consumption, and Wendy just wants to make sure that around her, Joohyun always feels safe.

Seulgi stands, walking over to the curved, ultra-wide computer screen. She lays out the three full-size windows all at once, reading through the pros and cons of each property.

On the couch, Joy sits up straighter, “What are you going to do about your old apartment?”

Wendy shakes her head, “I haven’t thought about it yet.”

She inhales a nervous breath, shoulder back against her seat. Perhaps she’s been moving too fast? But she wants to settle, with Joohyun. To dissolve in that routine of feeling the sunlight across their bed sheets with Joohyun in her arms, and each morning would feel awe-inspiringly divine. She wants that unexplainable magic whem they’re talking over a cup of coffee or Joohyun reads a book and Seungwan plays on her turntable — and all Wendy wants is that _assurance_.

That she and Joohyun were built to rest comfortably in each other, both in the messiness and simplicity of everyday life.

“Yup,” Seulgi pops on the ‘p’, breaking Wendy’s inner reevaluation, “UN Village is great, go buy it.”

The CEO shifts, “Are you guys sure?”

Seulgi nods and Joy claps her hands in excitement, "Told you."

Wendy rolls her eyes again, not bothering to hide her smile. She asks Seulgi to click on purchase, and the other girl complies before she jumps back over to the couch, relaxing and lowering herself.

There’s a loud knock before the door cracks open, Rosé appearing by the doorway. “Miss Son, there’s a confirmation email about—”

“Property?” The secretary nods at her words, Wendy can’t help but grin, “I’m buying it.”

Rosé nods, shooting a small smile in return, “Let me arrange a schedule for your visit.”

Wendy hums, “I think I’ll go tomorrow, is that okay?”

Joy mutters chuckling, “And I’m the impatient one.” 

Wendy laughs and there’s a small anticipation before Rosé looks up from her tablet, “After lunch is good,” she adds shortly, “Then you have an appointment with Velvet Industries at 6pm.”

“Noted, thank you Chaeyoung-ssi.” The secretary nods again, turning on her heels when Wendy speaks again.

“Wait,” she calls out, “Would you like to live in Gangnam?” Wendy asks her.

“That depends?” The secretary responds quizzically, “Where exactly? And why?”

Wendy laughs, and soon the tentative expression on Rosé turns into an appreciative smile as she slips her hands through the door and shuts it behind her.

.

Joohyun comes home from her five-day summer runaway show drained and exhausted, knowing that she’ll stumble into an empty apartment. It’s like their playing a game of hide-and-seek, but the two competitors are both unwilling.

She shoots the girlfriend a text, **_I’m home now_** , before flopping on their sofa, lying on her back as she squeezes her eyes shut. She stays quiet for several seconds, and then her phone rings. She rolls onto her side to grab the device.

 _“Hyun.”_ It’s Wendy’s voice. _“I miss you.”_

Joohyun scoots herself off the couch, “I miss you, too.” She decides it’s time to change into jammies, ones that give off that familiar vanilla scent. “What time are you going home?”

_“Hmm, I’ll probably be there in a few hours. Dr. Myoui wants to grab lunch actually, but I’ll have to—”_

“Yah!” Joohyun cuts her off, “Why is our wardrobe empty?” She asks pointedly, appalled at the site of her bare walk-in closet, bags and shoes that were once meticulously organized now gone, as only two pairs of sneakers were left along with a few articles of clothing.

Wendy laughs, imagining the doe-like eyes popping out of the her sockets, _“I was saying, Hyun, I’ll have to decline because I’ll take you somewhere.”_

Joohyun rolls her eyes, removing a white dress shirt from a hanger, “I’m guessing that’s where our clothes are.”

Wendy hums, “ _And I need you to open the first drawer on your right, the keys are there.”_

Joohyun rummages and sees the silver key shining against the light, “You bought us the house?” She shakes her head, there's a smile on her face as the silver metal fits in her pocket tightly.

 _“Our home, Hyun.”_ Wendy replies, _“We have a jacuzzi now! And there’s an in-house basement theater, and our kitchen’s still kind of small but the closet has custom artwork with a_ — _”_

“Wan-ah..” Joohyun calls softly, her heart pounding against her chest and swelling her with warmth.

 _“—Sorry Hyun,”_ In an instant _,_ the excitement in Wendy’s voice becomes tinged with disappointment, _“I need to go now. But I’ll pick you up later, okay? See you I love you,”_

She finishes in one breath and the call immediately disconnects. Joohyun doesn’t try to hide her smile, knowing just how much the words have gutted her, _“Our home.”_

She used to think it’s hard to do everything: it was hard to be in a relationship, and it’s also hard not be in one. It’s hard to have to perform and put a facade at a job you love and are emotionally invested in, and it’s hard because you still constantly seek for more.

But with Wendy, Joohyun understood what “enough” is, enough money, enough love, and the fulfillment knowing that they have each other and it’s enough. And things are still hard, but Joohyun also learns it’s just a matter of what you think is worth the effort, what you are willing to suffer and live for.

She recalls that night, cradled in Wendy’s arms under the ebony sky, she shuts her eyes in one single wish: that Seungwan thinks Joohyun is worth the effort, too. That Seungwan chooses her as the kind of love that’s worth keeping, the kind that ever so slightly tilts the axis on which the world spins, leaving nothing to ever be the same again.

Joohyun closes her eyes again, feeling herself on the verge of tears. She still doesn’t believe in fate; but the random, chance occurrences where she met Wendy in a bar, saw the CEO’s name on a new contract and signs it immediately, and all the other times that Wendy was there to evolve into nearly every important advancement in her life — it all counted for something.

.

“I think I gained ten pounds after that meal,” Wendy says jokingly, left hand rubbing her stomach as the right stays on the steering wheel.

They’re driving back to their home in Hannam-dong, after Irene finally introduces her CEO girlfriend to her family.

Joohyun laughs, before the smallest smirk plays across her mouth. As Wendy takes a sharp turn to the right, Joohyun pulls on the other woman's black, tucked-in shirt.

“H-hyun, what are you—”

Wendy shuts her eyes briefly, as Joohyun’s cold fingers run over her bare skin, “Not true, your abs are still rock solid.”

Wendy forces her eyes on the road as the ministrations don’t stop, circling on stomach. She feels chills breaking out of her skin as Joohyun continues moving her hands downward. Against the low hum of the radio, their breaths become extremely audible, and so is the gasp Wendy lets out when Joohyun thrusts two vacant fingers in her mouth, sucking them loudly.

Wendy says in a low growl, “We can’t do this here." Her voice completely in tune with the hunger in her eyes. She grips the steering wheel harder, but Joohyun only extracts her wet fingers to find them slowly crawling underneath her shirt.

Joohyun’s gaze leaves Wendy’s, feeling herself getting wet as her two hands are simultaneously occupied. Her left one traces and slips around Wendy’s bare stomach, circling slowly, teasing and taunting as Wendy’s breath hitches. Her right hand starts cupping herself, moaning as she throws her head back slightly, eyes closed in sweet torture. She bites her lips, when Wendy pulls her by the neck into a frantic, primal, and desperate kiss. _Finally._ Joohyun’s hands move to the CEO’s hair as Wendy runs her tongue over Joohyun’s mouth.

Wendy pulls back to unbuckle Joohyun’s seatbelt and she pulls the older woman’s shirt off. _Fuck,_ Joohyun thinks. They were really going to do this in a public parking lot. She scans the area in front of them and sees no one, but a thrill courses through her as Wendy puts an arm around her waist, lifting her to the front seat in one swift move.

“Top me,” and before Joohyun can even nod, Wendy takes her mouth in another feverish kiss, reaching for the model’s breasts, kneading and squeezing them in pure desire. Joohyun groans, and Wendy unclasps her bra as her fingers move down to graze the edge of Joohyun’s panties.

“Seungwan, _please_.” Irene pleads, feeling her core writhing in anticipation. When Wendy slips just beneath the hem, Joohyun’s whole body shudders.

“You’re so wet for me, baby.” Wendy hisses through her teeth, pulling Joohyun back to tilt her head to one side, so she can leave sinful kisses on the model’s throat. Joohyun grinds down, following every swipe and swirl of Wendy’s fingers. She feels the orgasm building, body awash with sensation. Her left hand curls around the hand brake and her right hand braces against the door.

Wendy grips her waist firmly, holding her in place, “Come for me,” She whispers hotly as her teeth graze Joohyun’s earlobe, her fingers stroking long and hard. Joohyun’s back arcs, shutting her eyes closed as she screams Seungwan’s name in release.

She trembles in ecstacy, still breathing hard from her climax. When she tries to right herself up to sit, she sees Wendy looking at her in a daze.

Sometimes, it really feels like everything’s a fantasy, that they can burn so hot and bright and unravel in each other’s pleasure.

They stare at each other before Wendy speaks with a smirk, piercing their glow, “Backseat this time?”

Joohyun giggles then she swings the door open, the cold air quickly hitting her bare skin.

Seungwan follows, discarding her shirt as Frank Ocean plays on the stereo.

 _Or do you not think so far ahead?'  
_ _'Cause I been thinkin' bout forever_

.

“Hey,” Joohyun greets the newcomer along with a small wave, “I like your new song.”

Jennie smiles, “Thank you,” pulling out a chair across the model, “Sorry, I got caught up in a fansign.”

Joohyun shakes her head in reassurance, “No worries.”

When Seungwan finally told her, in full detail, how the conversation with her ex went, Joohyun became flushed with worry for the singer. She knew that as much as we determine our own course and path to healing, we need support, too. People who will naturally fuel us with positive, encouraging thoughts until we overcome the thing we want to let go of.

To her, it didn’t matter if the singer was part of Wendy's past. Joohyun knows that what they had was something built over a period of love, but it’s now out with the wind. When Joohyun makes the choice of shooting the singer a text, she functions with respect for herself, for her relationship with Wendy, and with utter confidence that the CEO will always choose her.

The first time they met for a cup of coffee was spared from awkwardness, because the two soon find out that they had lot in common. Other than the master talents in their own fields, they both had a shared love for fashion and luxury, and their personalities jived well. In one fun-filled night, Irene discovers that even their taste in cocktails and drinks were the same.

“How’s Seungwan?” Jennie asks, and Joohyun’s eyebrow raises as she shoots her a look of suspicion.

“The articles, unnie.” The singer laughs, “My staff won't stop talking about it.”

Joohyun rolls her eyes, looking slightly embarrassed as she recalls what happened. “She’s such a dumbass, but it’s all good.”

In one of United’s many conferences in the midst of their international expansion, a reporter said Wendy has been Joohyun’s longest relationship so far, six months since their dating announcement. Wendy smiled in acknowledgement then the man suddenly jeered the conversation to ask if Wendy thinks the relationship will be ending soon, especially given Irene’s “reputation”.

He talked about the multiple instances the model was rumored to be sleeping around and Wendy took no bullshit, slandering the guy on national television.

_(“Seungwan, you shouldn't have.”_

_She faces the CEO directly, but Wendy takes her face in her hands and presses a kiss on the corner of her mouth._

_“He attacked you, of course I was going to snap.”)_

Joohyun shakes her head softly, a smile donning her face, _my adorable dumbass._

She glances back to the singer’s eyes, before she asks a question, “How’s Jisoo?”

This time, it’s Jennie who archs her eyebrow.

A beat of silence passes before the two of them break out in a fit of giggles. Joohyun knows, ever since the shoot, that the photographer has a well-meaning crush on the singer. Jisoo was wildly talented and exceptionally pretty, but unfortunately, she wouldn’t dare make the first move. So Jennie reaches out to her first _(thanks to Irene's prodding)_ and now, media has talked the two having good feelings and taking it ‘slow’.

A waitress arrives to list down their orders, filling their glasses with wine.

“But really,” Joohyun holds onto the topic, “How are things?”

Jennie smiles, it was a small, bashful one until it turns vibrant and full of life, “She’s a dork,” she rolls her eyes, “But she’s the brightest parts of my day.”

Joohyun looks at her, resting her chin on her palm as she smiles in genuine happiness for the singer. She asks a follow-up, “So the sex is still good?”

“Unnie!” Jennie covers her mouth, then she dips her head to look away shyly.

Joohyun’s shoulders shake as she tries to suppress a laugh, they said they would take it _slow_ but just a few weeks in, Jennie had to bulk buy United’s foundation to effectively cover the hickeys on her neck.

The singer coughs mildly, collecting herself despite her dumpling cheeks turning a shade of red. “As a matter of fact, it is.”

Joohyun doesn’t contain the laughter anymore, and soon their glasses clink together, both wearing wide grins on their faces.

***

**The Bae and Jennie Kim Seen Fighting to Pay the Bill in a Restaurant at Myeongdong.**

The battle we didn’t expect, supermodel Bae Irene and global hitmaker Kim Jennie are once again captured together, this time on a peaceful and friendly lunch date.

When it was time to pay for the meal, Jennie and Irene fought over the receipt. While Jennie brought out her card first, the supermodel was seen trying to grab the bill from her.

We aren’t sure who ended up paying, but check out this thread for a timeline of their friendship. From the denied rumors with CEO Son to an official relationship announcement from The Bae, DDU-DU TV has plotted it all!

For more updates on the queen besties, click subscribe.

***

 **@seung1nism** never seen two pretty best friends? what a lie  
 **@nicasonewenrene** they’re so cute and perfect tho fr fr   
**@rvjoohyunnie** meanwhile my friends and i argue cause we all don’t wanna pay 😭  
 **@seulmimasen** jensoo who? wenrene who? i only ride the jenrene agenda!

.

“Hyun,” Wendy says surprised, the lock clicking shut behind her. “Why are you still awake?” She glances at the model before heading straight toward the bathroom door, leaving it open.

Joohyun smiles from her position on the bed, the sight of Seungwan making her feel warm. “I was waiting for you.” She replies softly, but the CEO hears her still.

Wendy strips off, changing into sleepwear then plopping down next to the model. “Sorry I’m late.” She whispers, shutting her eyes as wraps her arm around Joohyun’s waist.

Irene shakes her head, swinging her leg above the CEO’s thighs and pulls her closer, breathing in the crisp winter scent. She buries her face on Wendy’s neck, a sigh escaping her lips.

“How was New York?” She asks, her voice muffled.

Wendy hums, “Tired.”

They’ve been flying nonstop, New York to L.A. to Florida and to San Francisco; and as she’s finally in the arms of the woman she missed so badly, she doesn't fight against the sleep, knowing that she'll lie down comfortably 'til the next day.

“I bought you your own jet,” She says sleepily, the exhaustion taking over.

Joohyun turns wide-eyed, she tries to pull away but Seungwan only holds her tight.

“Just think of it as an advance Christmas present.” She mumbles, curling comfortably in their embrace.

Irene rolls her eyes, “Seungwan, I don't need my own—"

“No buts Hyun," comes the quiet reply, “I always want you safe and comfortable.”

Joohyun feels a tender smile blooming on her face before she finally relents, staying wrapped in Wendy's arms.

They fall asleep in unison, against the steady, rhythmic beating of their hearts beneath the walls of their chests.

.

They’re spending Christmas eve lunch in their home in UN Village. That morning, the couple woke up early to decorate their living room, a pine tree with tinsels and ornaments, colorful bulbs, and a small troll was perched on the very top. Soon after, Joy and Seulgi came to put up lights on the windows, while halmeoni and Yerim started cooking in the kitchen, the aroma of barbecue ribs filling the atmosphere.

Right now, they all gathered in the dining area, the tablecloth was a deep red color with intricate swirling gold. Shiny silverwares were had green cloth napkins folded nicely beside the plates.

Once everyone carried the food around the table, the feast began. Their meal was slightly different, as halmeoni specialized in various kinds of meat and vegetables — beef stew, baked salmon, green beans, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, egg rolls, rice, and of course, _tteokbokki_.

They sat there, enjoying each others’ company and stories. Joy and Seulgi had two dogs now, sleeping soundly in their Itaewon property. Yerim was on her final year at SNU, and she plans on taking her master’s degree at Cambridge, forcing the trio to write her stellar recommendation letters.

Halmeoni adjusted incredibly well, she had innate leadership and kindness that had their culinary team work better than ever.

And Joohyun was still booked and busy, holiday capitalism meant more endorsements for luxury brands. Wendy couldn’t complain, especially when she was mostly away, too. United was now raking in billion-dollar revenue.

Seungwan looks at the women in front of her, laughing at Seulgi’s attempts to create a Christmas pun.

She sighs, then a hand reaches out to her knee. “Hey, are you okay?” Joohyun mumbles, scooting even closer as their thighs now brush.

Wendy leans in slowly, pressing a small kiss on her cheek before she pulls away. Their breaths mingle, “Never better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! thanks for supporting chance and wr and for all your kind words 🥺 this has meant a lot to me, and i look forward to writing more fics in the future :>
> 
> you can reach out to me on cc or twitter @/siztrv


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